Walking Among the Walkers
by AtomicLithium
Summary: Ayden Arezzo, Daryl Dixon, and a whole lotta Zombie -and drama- slaying.
1. Another Brick in the Wall

**A/N: **This author's note is a little late, I know, but I forgot to say a few things. :3

I do not own anything (such as the characters, other than Ayden, and the titles of the chapters) and the only thing I claim as my own is the thought process, my original characters, etc.

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

><p>I thought I was going to get out of the Home Depot alive, until my super special, absolute favorite Beretta M9 fell down a vent on account of me tripping over my own pack. That was when I started having second thoughts.<p>

"Shit!" I unintentionally yelled out loud, quickly covering my mouth and crawling toward the iron grate. The plunk of my gun hitting grimy water must've slipped my mind while I was freaking out. My knees, exposed by the gigantor holes in my favorite jeans, were scraped from the scratchy cement floor. I really hoped I didn't catch any diseases, especially the worst kind.

Most commonly, the flesh eating, decay secreting, vomit inducing people who caught the disease was referred to as Walkers. Being the innovator I was, I labeled them as shit eating waste of bullets. And that's just because I could easily outrun any of them.

"Shit, shit, shit," I whispered, wrapping my fingers around the squares of iron and attempting to lift. The grate was wielded shut.

I sat there a moment, not noticing that I was wasting time I didn't have. Losing my Beretta was like losing my family. I sighed heavily and sat by the grate, concentrating on the repetitious clang of Walker fists pounding on the windows from below. The next thing I knew was grabbing my pack and running for my life.

There were hundreds, thousands of them coming after me, smelling fresh blood that oozed out of my arm that got cut when I took the fall. I didn't even need to go to town that day, but something compelled me to go. Apparently, my intuition wanted to kill me.  
>I ran out of the office lobby, forgetting the looted supplies I had collected before I fell. <em>Why did I have to be so clumsy?<em> I asked myself. _Oh wait, that's right. I'm not._

The only thing between me and the Walkers now were a barricade of cars lined up from one block to the next. Somebody must've planned ahead. It reminded me of that one volcano movie. Remember that one? The one where they put up the concrete barriers to stop the tremendously slow flow of lava? Well instead of lava heading right towards me, I had a much faster crowd of Walkers making a beeline toward my veins. And they can climb over shit.

"There," I whispered, eyeing a white van that had to be at least 7 feet off the ground. I ran towards it, risking the oncoming Walkers would find my position and attempt to climb the van before I did. Before reaching the top, I sat on the hood and quickly grabbed a revolver I close to never used. In fact, I actually never used it. Piece of shit jammed like a rock in gears. I climbed on the roof, practically awaiting my death. The Walkers finally reached my position, clawing and grabbing at the van as if I was actually going to lower myself for the sake of their animal like hunger. I knew it wouldn't last; they would find a way to get up here. Sooner or later.

Ten minutes past. The Walkers were starting to figure out the hood was shorter than the top. Two attempted to climb up, but I forever silenced them with my revolver. It was getting tedious. Just like they couldn't stay down forever, I couldn't stay up there forever. Just as I was about to search for an alternative escape route, I stood up and swung around to face a strikingly familiar crossbow pointed directly in between my eyes.

"Woah, don't shoot man!" I yelled, staring at the unshot crossbow bolt. I considered dropping my gun until he quickly removed the bow from my face and hastily grabbed me by the forearm.

"Just making sure you weren't bitten," the man informed me. His mind seemed to be occupied with something more important. But so was mine; I had definitely seen him before.

"I would say thanks but I know you checked for your own benefit."

"How many rounds you got?" He asked, ignoring my comment and scanning the Walker crowd that slummed toward us. I quickly obeyed his question and counted silently.

"Four," I huffed breathlessly and continued to hold my breath until the man let go.

"Dammit," he swore, "Merle should be here by now."

"Wait a second. Merle? Like, the guy who almost shoved me off a rooftop the last time we met? Daryl, we meet again," I tsked, noticing that he remembered me even though it was obvious he was trying to hide it. I too scanned for the hot headed companion of his that almost has killed me before in the past. When nothing was to be seen except green and blue rotting flesh, he sighed impatiently and let a couple of rounds on two close Walkers. He was amazingly precise, an extreme improvement to his skills that almost had got us all eaten.

"He should've been here by-"

A roaring echo was heard, coming from the back of the Walker crowd. He eyed suspiciously but hopefully to the end of the parade, and his eyes grew in anticipation when a roaring military grade jeep soared over the Walker horde and squashed everyone in his path.

"Whee hoo! Get outta the way, dead fucks!" Merle called. Once he got to our position on top of the white van we had been perched on for less than 5 minutes (but with the way Daryl was huffing he made it seem like hours), he slapped my saviors open hand and then held it out in front of me.

"Mi'lady," Merle said with fake regality, which would be pretty funny if not for the threatening situation we found ourselves in, "It's been so long, I've missed that sweet, sweet smile of-"

"Can't say the same, I'm afraid," I softly interrupted with equally fake politeness, taking his hand as he practically threw me in the front seat. Daryl sat in his respective place in the back, setting his crossbow in a seat as if it needed somewhere to sit too.

"Safety first, children," Merle mocked and slammed a seatbelt on me before squealing out of the skyscrapers parking lot. The jeep was incredibly roomy, other than an abundance of carefully selected weaponry that lined the gap between me and Merle. I glanced at him every once and awhile; he had a very serious posture about him, but with what tone his brother used saying his name, it sounded the opposite. Speaking of Daryl...

"I didn't get the chance to ask you last time, but why'd you save me from falling off the roof?" I asked the man, twisting in the seat to find him watching me the whole time. Admittedly, I found him extremely attractive. Something about blood and dirt turned me on anyway.

"Instinct, I s'pose," Daryl quickly said, rising my level of questions. I nodded in understanding anyway.

"And you must be Ayden, right?" Merle asked, taking his eyes off the road to meet mine. They were brown, like his brothers. I could tell they had quite an age difference, though.

"How'd ya know?" I asked in astonishment, thinking of how he remembered from all those months ago. Sarcasm, people. Use it wisely. It had actually only been about two weeks.

"Well, I betcha 'member the last time I saved your skinny little ass. You mentioned it then."

"Whatever, let's not quibble over a fuckin' name, let's get down to brass tacks," I barely could hold in a snicker when Merle looked at me like I was an escaped nuthouse patient, "How did you guys find me?" I asked, looking back and forth between Merle and Daryl. They both rolled their eyes.

"Until now, you've been surviving on your own, right? And with what, a single Beretta? Our combat skills are abysmal compared to yours. With a rep like that, you're not hard to find," Daryl fascinated, looking up at me after he was done speaking. The blank stare I beamed must've concerned him since shortly after speaking he evaded my gaze and went back to contently staring out the window. Er, what used to be a window.

"Hey, watch yourself. I wouldn't go that far," Merle grinned and glared at Daryl through the mirror.

"That still doesn't answer how you guys found me."

"You really want to know?" Daryl cautiously asked. I turned again and looked deep into his eyes.

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't."

Daryl gave Merle a shaky nod and he shrugged carelessly.

"We've just been keeping... a close eye on you, is all," Merle casually told. I raised my eyebrows.

"Are you telling me you guys actually never left?" I asked, astonished. The pang of emptiness I felt that morning wasn't necessary after all.

"Only out of eyesight, baby," Merle answered, his voice inching up an octave.

"Again, what makes me so special? I mean, I appreciate the flattery and all, but-"

"Listen, the last time we ran into you, we were impressed with your skills. Most of 'em you're wielding are important and transferrable," Daryl seriously described. I held in another giggle; I'd forgotten how smart he sounded describing things.

"Your quick thinking is what we need, cause 'da lawd knows we don't got that."

"Fuck it, I'm in this shit for sure. What do I do?"

"Yeah," Merle howled, nodding in acceptance and looking back to his brother.

"I thought you'd be one of those bitchy girls when I first saw ya, I'll tell ya the truth," Daryl laughed and laid back in his seat.

"I'll be blunt here. What's in it for me?"

"Gotta get to the point sooner or later, I s'pose. A better chance of survival," Daryl amended, crossing his arms in await to my reply.

"Hey, who said I need a better chance? I was completely fine by myself."

"But everyone wants-and needs-a better chance of survival. Besides, I totally bailed your ass back there, and the last time before," Daryl laughed and shook his head as if he was expecting that reply.

"Please, I coulda handled myself," I laughed along with him and eyed Merle's sly glares towards me.

"If I wasn't there to catch your ankle, you'd be Walker chow."

"If you weren't there, I wouldn't have been dangling off the roof in the first place!"

"Children, children. Settle the fuck down. Ayden didn't give me an answer. So, we invite ya to join our little group. Waddya say?"

"It's a very prestigious complement, really. 'S once in a lifetime thing for Merle, invitin' someone like this," Daryl started, pausing for a moment, "Besides, I kinda like you."

I blushed a shade of deep red that could rival my neon red skinny jeans until Merle grinned at me and shifted his hands.

"He doesn't mean like that, sweet cheeks. Maybe later on, but you gotta earn our trust. It's a privilege, not a right," Merle commented, leaning in and whispering in my ear.

"So," I started, clapping my hands as I casually changed the subject, "tell me about yourselves."

"We are the Dixon brothers, Merle and Daryl, at your service," Merle boasted proudly.

"Well, yeah. I already know that."

"Oh yeah. Your name gets to go first. Like always," Daryl snared and held in a snicker.

"Hey, I was first anyway. By twenty years," Merle said and looked over to scale my reaction, "Hell yeah," he added as I sucked in a breath.

"That's quite a ways," I nodded and raised an eyebrow when they both stared at me, "What?"

"Well don't expect us to talk and not get anything in return."

"That I was not insinuating. Okay, well, my name is Ayden Arezzo. 27 years of age," I intentionally left my race out, only to be obviously assumed by them.

"Italian, huh? So where you from?" Daryl asked, listening in closely as if there'd be a test on this later.

"Originally I was born in Los Angeles, California. Moved around a bit when I was adopted at 16, but ended up finding home in Belleville, New Jersey where I met the love of my life," I lied, sucking in a breath after I realized I just told a huge lie. Subconsciously.

That's always how I pictured my life to be, happily married with two annoying ass kids living somewhere along the beach. I quickly learned the truth at a young age; how—and where—you grew up directly affected how your life turned out. In my case, I was a dumpster baby, born and raised by the few women who took me in on 164th street in Queens, New York. But more on that later.

Daryl suddenly leaned back and Merle studied his brother's odd behavior.

"Why so upset, my dear brother?" Merle laughed and pulled into an abandoned grocery store. Storm clouds were forming in the south, growing closer as the wind blew. I watched lightning strike the city skyline, before I knew it we were out of the big city and into the countryside.

I exhaled when they didn't seem to catch my lie. "Yeah, don't get too worked up. There was no, uh, no mutual feeling."

"I'm not upset," he denied, "who said I was upset?"

"That defensive tone ya got there says different," I added, raising a conspicuous eyebrow as he got out and opened my door.

"Why're you guys always out to get me?"

A blush formed at the base of his cheeks as I slid out of the jeep (I actually had to slide) and hugged him, confirming suspicions I had last time we met. I grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder for him and before following Merle into the King Soopers, I came close to Daryl's ear.

"You're not hiding that blush too well, darling. Not last time and definitely not this time."  
>I backed away and clicked my tongue before joining Merle's side, leaving Daryl standing confused in the littered parking space.<p>

"Don't worry, sweet checks. He isn't used to getting teased by giiirls," Merle laughed, carrying out the i in girls. I laughed along with him and jumped to the side as Daryl ran up and tackled Merle's back.

"Not this time, you little shit," Merle snared and clenched his teeth, grabbing Daryl by the shoulders and flipping him sideways, leaving him barely touching the ground. Besides age difference, there was another thing the boys didn't have in common. Merle almost towered over his younger brother.

"Is it safe to assume this has happened before?" I laughed, truly deciding just then that I actually wanted to be apart of their clan.

"It isn't safe to assume anything, remember that," Merle said, letting go of Daryl and pointing at me. Daryl fell heavily to the concrete, immediately getting up and dusting off his hole ridden blue jeans.

"One of these days, you old fucker," Daryl insisted, pushing his brother out of the way so he could go first through the store's double doors.

"Ooh, so competitive," I called and walked into the store behind Merle. He stopped before I could get a view of how pathetically empty the place was. "Why the hell'd ya stop?" I attempted to push him out of the way but his large stature didn't budge. In fact, things seemed almost normal. Until Merle moved.

It was a feeding frenzy among at least twenty Walkers. The stench of diseased and decaying flesh filled the air between us and the other kind, leaving my gag reflexes to action until Merle jerked his hand onto my thigh and squeezed. I obeyed what I thought he meant and froze. The Walkers were too focused on the feed to notice us.

"There's a MK-16 in the jeep. Carefully go get it," Merle slightly turned his head and whispered in my ear. I nodded my head once and slowly turned around. I tiptoed through the broken glass that dotted the white linoleum floor, marching carefully around the equally crunchy metal pieces that matched the pattern of glass. It looked like looters (probably pyromaniac, adrenaline junkie guys) blew the doors to pieces. What happened to the good old fashioned way of just breaking glass to loot stuff from a store? I thought I was safe from the litter once I left the store. Thought.

I looked up from the floor to spot the rifle Merle was referring to and started walking confidently to the jeep. Until a crunch was heard from under my foot, sending a huge sigh from the stores entrance. I froze in place until Merle's shout confirmed my fear.

"Go!" He yelled and almost immediately after gunshots echoed loudly in my ears. I sprinted towards the jeep and grabbed the gun, clicking off the safety and running back to the stores entrance. There were more Walkers than I thought, many more than twenty were all headed toward our position at the front. No wonder why Merle told me to get a bigger gun than I thought was necessary. Immediately as I returned to the spot where Daryl was standing before he moved to a strategic place behind a counter, I put my finger on the trigger. Before I laid rounds on a couple of Walkers, I looked at the scene before me. Merle himself looked like he could take care of the situation. Daryl just seemed to be there for crowd control. I barely shot any bullets before the Walkers were all laying on the ground, dead for good.

"Ya know, you coulda helped," Daryl chuckled, taking notice there were only two Walkers that laid in front of me in a bloody crumpled heap.

"I don't understand why you need me," I questioned, resting the rifle on my shoulder and shaking my head. They both shook their heads along with me.

"For situations like the one you both got yourselves in last time," Merle pointed out, putting his shotgun over his shoulders and hanging on it.

"True, that," Daryl agreed, "this was nothing compared to what we've seen."

"Walker hordes?" I asked solemnly, looking up when Daryl looked at me like I was crazy.

"No way," Merle said confidently shaking his head as he scoped the bloody entrance, "d'you know how intellectually advanced Walkers would have to be to hunt in packs?"

"More advanced then it took the time for you to think of 'intellectually advanced'," Daryl snickered and slung his crossbow over his shoulder before collecting arrows from the foreheads of his kill.

"Whelp, looks like I come out on top again," Merle boasted, silently counting the ones without arrows in their eyes and not including the two in front of me.

"Don't rule out the newbie yet," Daryl said and pointed to me with his handful of arrows.

"Yeah, just wait until we're actually in a load of shit," I shone proudly, "that's when I start kicking major ass."

"I'll take your word on it. Let's hope we never run into a 'load of shit'."

"Speaking of shit, why don't we see what's left of this store, huh?" Merle said and threw down his shotgun before rubbing his hands together.

"Not much from what I can gather," I sighed and looked around. Other than a few shelves that lined the entrance walls, empty of course, there were a few shelves directly behind the spot where the feeding was held. The rest of the isles were hidden from our sight.

"Well I say we split up and meet back up here in 5. How does that sound?"

"Sure thing," I said and picked up Merle's gun and gave it to him, "always be prepared, remember that," I mocked.

"Hey, wait," Daryl called to me, struggling to keep up with my bounding steps over the bodies, "jeez, you're quick."

"Yep, if that's one thing you got to learn from me, it's my agility," I bragged proudly, "and what about you? Must have some handy hunting skills on ya, right?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Kinda. Anyway, isn't the point of splitting up is to go separate ways?"

"Sorry," he said, a sad note ringing in his tone, "do you want me to go another way?"

"No!" I said quickly, "I kinda want you- well, you can come with me if you want."  
>He nodded and pulled his slipping crossbow back to his shoulder. We walked in silence for a while, searching shelves for cans of food or anything salvageable.<p>

"So, what was your life like before shit hit the fan?" Daryl asked casually, shifting through a pile of junk sitting on the floor. He picked up a piece of plastic and attempted to make it into an arrow. I furrowed my eyebrows and stopped shifting through empty cans of fruit.

"That's kinda random," I questioned and looked back at him. He did the same.

"Just trying to make conversation," he shrugged and went back to molding his plastic arrow.

"Perfect to tell you the truth," I lied and braced myself for oncoming jealousy comments. Instead, he stayed with curious grunts. "Everything was awesome. I mean, not exactly perfect but I was content with my life. How bout you?"

"Can't say the same, I'm afraid. Merle's the only person I trusted, the only family I knew, and the only person I half got along with."

Unfortunately, his life resembled what my life was really like more than the fabricated story did. The only true part so far was my name and my age.

He chuckled sadly, stopping his arrow shaping briefly. He looked back at me quickly, and then chuckled again.

"Don't look so sad, my life ain't worth being sad for."

"I bet Merle wouldn't agree with that," I said softly. Even though I could already tell they didn't have the best relationship, Merle still loved and protected Daryl. No matter how much he denied it.

"Nah, he'd jus' tell me that I was no better than the rest."

I felt the truth in his words. As tough as Merle's attitude toward Daryl, it was all just part of survival. No one had better odds of survival than anyone else, when it all comes down to it. We're just luckier than the rest.

"Why do I find it hard to believe that?" I asked, realizing that I was holding the same empty cans for the past ten minutes. I set them down and wiped my hands on my grey pants.

"Because you still refuse to accept what happened."  
>Silence filled the isle, with the exception of muted frustrated grunts coming from Merle at the other end of the store.<p>

"So," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. Instead, it shook unsurely. "Find anything?"

"To be honest I haven't really been looking."

I laughed emptily and sniffled my nose, waiting for Daryl to stand up. He saw me in distress and reluctantly held out his arms. I practically fell into them.

"I know we haven't known each other for long," I whispered in his ear after spending a few seconds leaning against his shoulder, "but I know you're not just a redneck asshole who listens to whatever his brother tells him to do."

I pulled away from his shoulder, coming only inches from his face. Chills went down my spine as he intently looked into my eyes.

"Yo, love birdies," Merle mocked, making me jump back from Daryl's gaze, "Revisitin' old times?"

"Fuck off, Merle. Last time we almost killed each other. And the time before that," Daryl harshly spat, not letting go of my waist. I inched away as Merle kept staring.

"Sorry if I was, uh, interrupting you. Didn't mean to scare ya, neither."

I sighed, an unusual hint of remorse in Merle's voice. Assuming he was jealous of the fast progress of Daryl and my relationship would be foolish. Yet, it crossed my mind.

"It's fine, Merle. Did you find anything?" I asked, glancing slightly at Daryl. He seemed to shrink back as I stepped closer to see what Merle held.

"'S just some type of cord. Don't know what it is. Might come in handy?"

"Lemme take a look at it," I offered and grabbed the short white cord from his grimy hand. I inspected both ends of it, confident with what I found was a certain car charger that I've been dying to find.

"Sweet shit, Merle! I can't thank you enough," I squeaked and placed my finger over the apple logo that sat on the car plugin.

"I'm glad that you're excited, but... What is it?"

"It's an iPod charger," I giggled and ran out to the jeep, with Merle and Daryl's confused state in tow. Grabbing the pack that I usually carried around with me 24/7, I pulled out a purple cased iPod that currently had my life's contents inside.

"Of all the things you coulda put in that backpack in place of an iPod," Merle sneered, leaning against the jeep's open door.

"Never estimate the power of passion," I lectured giddily, "This baby has saved my life more than once."

"Yeah, and so did this baby," Daryl muttered loudly, pointing to himself, "You don't see me taking up space."

"This is only four inches long and fits in my goddamn back pocket. What're you, like 6 feet?"

"5 foot 10, thank you very much."

"I rest my case," I said and motioned Merle to hand over the keys.

"Oh nuh uh, Missy. Remember what I said about earnin' our trust?" Merle said, grasping the ready to be used, they're-fucking-screaming-at-me keys harder in his palm.

"Yeah, privilege not right," I spoke impatiently, wiggling my fingers and tapping my foot.

"We're leaving anyway," Daryl yelled and threw his crossbow in the back before hopping there himself. I sighed and made my way around the jeep and huffily jumped in the passenger seat. As I waited for Merle to get situated, I plugged the charger into the built in lighters plug.

"Yo, have you ever played shotgun?" Daryl asked, leaning in-between the two front seats. I suspiciously looked down at him.

"Yes."

"I call that into play from now on."

I laughed, sighing and pushing the hair out of my face before looking in the rearview mirror. "How 'bout I drive, Merle sits in back, and you sit in front."

Merle gave off a bellowing laugh. "Keep dreaming, sweetcheeks."

"I dunno, sounds pretty cool to me," Daryl shrugged, laughing when Merle turned around and gave him a death glare. "Never mind then."


	2. Back Down South

Chapter 2- The Group

Silence fell among the Jeep after the sun started to set. Usually, around this time, I'd be hunkering down for the night and risking a few hours of shut eye. Even though my trust wasn't fully with these guys, I at least trusted Merle to wake someone up before he dozed off. That and since we were basically in the middle of a huge field, I trusted that no Walkers would come out of the bushes and eat us in our sleep.

My eyelids were in the process of drooping down when Merle nudged me with his shoulder.

"Hey, Ayden," He whispered, glancing in the back seat to a hunched over, sleeping Daryl. His hooked seatbelt kept him from falling into the back of my seat.

"Yeah?" I said drowsily without opening my eyes. When he didn't reply back, I forced my eyes to reopen and focus on his concentrated face. "You're not falling asleep on me, are ya?"

"No," He bluntly said, gripping the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles turned a pale white.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him until the action caused me to grow even drowsier. I thought of what to say next, but when he still didn't tell me why he called my name in the first place, my eyes drooped once again.

"Shit!" Merle yelled angrily, making me jolt out of sleep and sit up straight. I rubbed my eyes and shut them almost immediately after I opened them; the sun was beating down on the jeep so brutally it reminded me of that one time I tagged along on a business trip with one of the Melrose Apartment's mothers. The only thing I didn't know is that he was a climatologist and we had to spend the whole weekend in Death Valley, California. I honestly didn't think they were being literal when they named it _Death._

Merle screeched the jeep to a halt, sliding six inches away from a barricade of cars similar to what I protected myself with in the Home Depot parking lot. I carefully peeked over my hand, searching for my Aviators in my pack with my other hand. Once I found them, I slammed them on and looked at the city in front of me.

"Can you fucking explain to me why we're in Atlanta right now?" I yelled, pulling myself up with the top of the windshield. I motioned to Atlanta's skyscrapers that sat motionlessly, like everything else in eyesight, right in front of us.

A disgruntled huff of air came from the backseat, following an equally angry grunt. "Big city," Daryl questioned, unhooking his seatbelt and sitting on the edge of his seat like I was, "you wanna get us killed, Merle?"

"Maybe if the dumbass with the map didn't sleep for fourteen hours I woulda known where I was goin'!" Merle yelled back, slamming his door open and grabbing a rifle before he climbed out. We both followed his lead and grabbed our stuff.

"Fourteen hours?" I yelled at him as he swerved through the parked cars without us, "then how did you sleep?"

"Pulled over!" He yelled back, his echo bouncing off the modern plate glass buildings.

"Stop yelling!" I hypocritically yelled back, my hands clenching the straps of my pack. "If your stink don't attract the Walkers your loud-ass voice will!"

I watched as his arm rose up in my direction, and even though I couldn't tell if he raised a specific finger up, I could very well guess he did.

And now it's time for some Ayden-Daryl bonding. Yay.

"Guess we're hoofin' it," Daryl muttered, shrugging as my mouth fell open.

"Is your brother bat-shit crazy?" I asked, honestly enough that he laughed heartily. I glared at him until he started following Merle's path into the city.

"You get used to it," He replied. I groaned and reluctantly shuffled my feet behind Daryl. Okay, so maybe I was having second thoughts about following these two idiots around. But what's better than keeping someone around after being absolutely alone for almost a year? Blegh.

As we weaved through the assorted heap of cars in silence, other than the occasional crunch of glass and the wind blowing in between the buildings making my stomach feel more than queasy, I let my mind wander off into a place possibly far more enchanting than Georgia. More specifically New York, which if not for the apocalypse I'd probably be sitting on a sidewalk next to some dude with a ghetto blaster, hating life. But I liked this lifestyle, and the fact that I lived through my teens being half Italian half Indian in the not-so-great part of Queens, it was sorta like how I lived now, minus the dead people walking around.

"Hey, Daryl," I said, breaking the silence. My sudden voice made the nearby bush filled with tiny birds scatter away. They were those tiny, baby like birds; living proof that even in a world where the living risen from dead you could still find beauty.

"Yo," He replied, glancing at me for a split second before returning his sight to the pavement. He stepped over an overturned, open suitcase, looking at it intently but not stopping to see if there was anything salvageable in it. I uninterestedly stepped around it after he did.

"What would you be doing now?" I asked, reviewing the question in my head and realizing it wouldn't make sense to someone who couldn't read my thoughts, so I added, "If the world didn't go to shit?"

"Uh," he huffed and paused for a moment to think. As he did, he reached into a red minivan's open window and pulled out a pair of pliers. He shrugged one shoulder and slid it into his back pocket. "I dunno, what's today?"

"Lemme check," I said, reaching into my right back pocket for my IPod. Even though my pocket couldn't have been more than five inches deep, I still fished around in it like it was Mary Poppins bag that held the world's secrets inside.

Hey, no biggie, it wasn't in there. Sometimes, I forget and put it into the cup holder of my pack. So, I swung the side that held the fishnet strip of fabric down to my chest and looked in there.

Shit. No purple cased IPod in there, either.

"Do you know where I put my IPod?" I asked, my voice shaking unnoticeably. I swallowed hard when he looked back at me and shook his head.

"Ah, wait," Daryl said suddenly, "you was charging it with that new cord you got, remember?"

I laughed and let my pack go, shifting my weight so the force of it swinging back wouldn't knock me over. To attempt to remain calm, I enveloped my fingers around my face.

Believe it or not, that IPod really was my life. Or at least, before all this happened and about three days into the apocalypse. It renewed my hope and faith for this world, and the fact that Merle found me a charger for it (car charger, at that!) made him my new best friend. I couldn't lose all of now.

"I'll be back!" I yelled, immediately turning around and running back toward the Jeep without a reply. I felt his wanting to follow me or to tell me to stop, but his needing gaze didn't stop me for running for the thing that kept me alive and striving for something.

I always wanted to be part of a track team in high school. For the two months that I actually got away with going to school (apparently being a dumpster baby instantly grants you not a 'legal' citizen of the United States, leave be New York), all I did was make a single friend and passed a single class: English. Now that I think about it, I really wanted to be a Journalist when I grew up. Isn't it funny how the present makes you forget about the past, when everything from the moment you started taking interest in things ties up to be what you are?

Anyway, I could easily run the best track guy in the school, and even though I went to a ghetto school in the ghetto-ist part of Queens, this guy could run pretty damn fast. And that guy was the single friend I had made for those two months and the single friend I had ever made in my teenage years.

See, you don't need friends to survive. I got along just fine.

My thoughts instantly focused to the console of the Jeep as it neared my sight. I sped up my legs a few notches and didn't stop until I got to the passenger side door. I paused for a few minutes to regain the breath I lost during the freaking marathon that I just ran and eased the door open. Once I snatched both the cord and my dearest IPod, I quickly climbed out of the Jeep and slammed the door shut.

_Better keep this in my pack, _I reminded myself, unzipping the biggest pocket of the pack and snugly placed the pair in between a few cans of fruit and a half empty bottle of water. Before I zipped the pocket shut, I admiringly picked up my knife that I respectively named Louie after the owner of the pawn shop I got it from. The accompanying adjustable holster loosely hung on to the blade of it, and since this reminded me that I didn't have a competent weapon to my name, I strapped it to my left thigh where I usually kept it.

After coddling my knife, I zipped the pack back up and slung it over my shoulder. Just as I was about to turn away, a familiar sense of rounded cold metal hit the back of my head, just over the loose ponytail I kept up almost 24/7.

An undesirable passion swept over me, telling me to disarm the gun that was two milliseconds from killing me and to kill the guy that held it there. Instead, since I actually do have a heart, I decided to strike a friendly conversation.

"Hey, there," I said, not daring to turn around. "I'm not a Walker, so could you please kindly take your gun away from my head? On second thought, you can keep it there. The cool metal feels good against this-"

"Shut up," a hoarse voice, definitely a man's, snapped back at me. I opened my mouth to speak again, but with another nudge to my head, I thought better of it. "Are you with anyone else?"

I swallowed hard when he took the gun away from my head. "Yeah, two other guys."

"Alright," he said, innocently enough that I took it as an invitation to turn around. I cautiously did so.

Damn, was he pretty.

"Shane," he said, extending his hand, "Shane Walsh."


	3. Counting Bodies like Sheep

"I have a Jeep that you could all fit in when we get back to camp," Shane said seriously, scoping the three of us out. Merle opened his mouth to say something; I kicked him lightly in the shin to stop him.

"Another Jeep," Daryl muttered, ignoring the suspicious side glances from Shane.

"So, you're saying there are more survivors than just you?" I asked, feeling like a freaking genius compared to these two.

"Yeah," he shrugged, looking directly at me when he spoke. It put butterflies in my stomach.

"Let's get a move on," Shane said, nodding towards the setting sun, "before it gets dark."

Everyone around the campfire felt like an alien species, except for Merle and Daryl who sat on either side of me. Everyone was chatting happily while we munched on a freshly caught raccoon. Someone didn't know how to hunt; there was barely any meat leftover from someone's hunting skills. Daryl could have done much better.

"So, what did you guys do before the apocalypse?" The tall one with long dark brown hair, Lori, asked. I was too involved in sucking up the poorly cooked meat to realize that was what they'd been talking about the entire time. We three stayed silent until Daryl cleared his throat and set his plate down.

"Basically the same thing now, 'cept there's Walkers," Daryl said seriously, and even though I already knew about his past, it still never failed to shock me. I looked to Merle and raised my eyebrows, signaling he was next. He rolled his eyes.

"I don't have to tell you anything," Merle snorted, glancing at everyone before I nudged him.

"Jesus Merle, you're not being interrogated," I whispered. His nasty tone left the air awkwardly unhappy, everyone falling silent and looking to me as if I was responsible for Merle's actions. I rubbed my temples.

"What about you," the blonde one in her 30's, Andrea, asked, with what felt like a permanent scowl on her face. "What did you do?"

I took a deep breath as everyone still stared at me. I wasn't good with public speaking. Or, speaking at all.

"Refining my skills, you could say," I muttered deeply, but kept my cool. The past is not my thing.

"What kind of skills?" Morales' daughter asked, bringing the attention of the three other kids.

"Well, agility, flexibility, basic gun skills, the like," I explained proudly, earning a slight approving look from the tall, dark, and handsome one in the back, Shane. I didn't realize he fit the stereotypical criteria of a sexy man until then. But oh, did he fit it so well. Daryl caught on to my eyeing and bumped my shoulder, purposefully pulling my attention from Shane.

"Yes?" I asked forcefully, grinding my teeth as I slowly turned my head toward him.

"So what do you think about this?" he whispered, leaning closer to me and suspiciously looking around.

"Well, I think, and quote, 'we are absolutely never gonna join a group'. Remember who said that?"

"I've been thinking, there's safety in numbers, right?" he attempted to convince me. I wasn't buying it.

"There are also more mouths to feed, more to keep track of. I mean, there are fourteen of 'em. This isn't a group; it's practically a refugee camp."

Daryl shook his head as Merle caught the gist of the conversation.

"Don't think I've ever done this but imma have to agree with Ayden," he laughed and lovingly patted my shoulder. I stuck out my tongue.

"Fuck you but thank you," I quietly replied so the little ones didn't catch my language. Lori's kid, Carl's the name I believe, still watched intently.

"Come on, give 'em a chance," Daryl pleaded, raising the eyebrows of Merle.

"Oh, is this so? Darlena giving people chances?"

"Shut up," Daryl replied, loud enough to turn Andrea's younger sister Amy and the stout, short haired Carol that sat beside him.

"I'm pretty sure you are the newcomers, therefore we would be the ones giving chances," Carol laughed, sipping her warm tea out of the blue stoneware cup. It smelt delicious, like peppermints.

I laughed along with Amy, watching Merle scowl, Daryl roll his eyes and continue eating, and everyone else looking our way. Except Shane, who made his way over to this side of the campfire.

"Hey," he said, moving to a crouching position so he could get close to my ear. Merle attempted to lean to the side as much as he could before he nudged the older man, Dale, obviously trying to get away from him as if Shane got the disease.

"Uh, hello," I uneasily replied, leaning a bit away myself. He caught my drift and backed away.

"I heard bits and pieces of your earlier conversation," he started, looking at Daryl who was shooting daggers at the both of us, "Do you have any other... Useful skills?"

And with this, I couldn't help thinking naughty. Typical Ayden Arezzo for you, there.

I looked toward Daryl, who radiated of disapproval. A snicker escaped my mouth before I could reply.

"What's so funny?" Shane asked, not as seriously as I thought he was going to say it. He seemed like a real serious man.

"It's just that you're the second person to ask for a piece of my attributes," I mocked Merle and Daryl, getting confused looks from Shane.

"Let's take a walk," Shane said, standing and offering me his hand. I looked at Daryl before accepting his offer. He shook his head and waived his hand. I smiled and kissed him on the cheek before grabbing Shane's warm hand. Daryl quickly got up and came close to my ear before Shane could pull me away.

"Try to keep your hands off his abs, okay?"

"Hm," I answered, unwilling to promise that. Then I shot him a sly glance that asked how he knew, but before he could come up with a sly comment back, Shane cleared his throat impatiently.

"Gotta go," I giggled slightly, giving Merle a 'haha I get along with everyone better than you' look and continued to follow Shane toward the dark forest of pines and aspens.

Minutes went by without a word between us. If you'd look up awkward in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me and Shane in a forest. In fact, this whole day would be beside the definition, if that was even possible.

"So, are you and those guys related?" Shane asked after what felt like an eternity of crickets and rustling wind.

"Like, family? Hell no," I put bluntly and felt bad afterwards. I do love Merle like family. My emotions are everywhere on the subject of Daryl, though. Shane glanced at me weirdly, like I hated them or something. I took a deep breath and bent down to fix my combat boots.

"Nice kicks," he complemented, leaning against a tree. I couldn't help myself but to glance upwards at Shane's abs that formed his tight fitting shirt.

Damn, Daryl was right. That boy definitely had it going on. I wondered why Daryl noticed it before I did.

I finished retying an undone lace and stood up straight. Shane still leaned against the tree and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"So, let's talk business, yeah?" I said, not wanting to start yet another period of awkward silence. But by the way he was going, he wanted to start an awkward but yet so, so sexy staring contest.

"What do you mean?" he finally asked, levering himself off the tree and continued walking further into the forest. I hesitantly followed.

"That's why you drug me out into the forest, right? A trade for my help with the camp in exchange for a safe place to sleep at night? Trust me, I've been here before. I know how it works."

I think my knowledge shocked Shane into more silence, which was exactly what I wanted: more awkwardness. Jeez. I've been using that word a lot.

"We were probably going to let you guys stay anyway, there would be no negotiating or business proposition involved," he said very seriously, and maybe even a little angry. Before going into an idiosyncratic fit, he calmed down and sighed, stopping in his tracks before we made it any further in the forest.

"I didn't mean it like that, or whatever you took it for."

"Yeah, sorry. It's just those people over there," he nodded his head in the direction of the camp, "they want safety. They want their lives to go back to normal. They think that can happen again, just life to go back to normal." He laughed and shook his head, most of his seriousness now being directed toward whatever he thought of their way of thinking. I had a hunch he was going to pour it out now.

"Do you think so?" I innocently asked, backing up a few inches just in case I touched the wrong place. This guy definitely had some things to sort out in his mind.

"Fuck no! They think any day the Military is gonna come out of the sky and save their asses, they don't understand that everyone is gone. Everyone! The military, the navy, all that shit! It. Is. Gone!"

Shane punched a tree hard enough to make even me cringe. It caused it to rattle and a few bronze and golden yellow leaves fell around us. He grunted in pain and gripped his knuckles.

Yeah, I think I was right about him pouring his heart out. Something told me he never told anyone about this, ever.

"Shane, Shane," I said calmly, going into comfort mode, "calm down. Everything is going to be okay."

"No it's not," he sobbed, breaking down in front of me. My comfort mode nearly vanished and panic took over. _Was he going insane_? I asked myself, because I'm pretty sure this wasn't something that happened everyday.

I slowly crept toward him, wrapping my arms around his waist when I reached him. He sobbed a bit more and grasped me back.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered when he caught his breath again. Tears still fell down heavily.

"Survive," I whispered back, leaning my head against his chest. His heart was racing fast. "Just keep going, it doesn't matter what they think."

"I've thought about leaving," he confessed, "but I can't leave the ones I actually have any hope for."

"Who would that be?" I asked curiously.

"Andrea, mostly. She knows how it is and how it never will be. Everyone else still has wet dreams about things going back to normal."

"They don't have the same views as her?"

"Andrea doesn't belong in this type of world. Her ideas are much more solid than the rest of the girls but less practical. She's been right on more than half of everyone else's shots."

I stood there on silence for a few minutes, soaking it all in.

After a few minutes, Shane lifted his head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes. The action made my heart beat just about as fast as his was.

"What do you think about this shit?" he asked.

I sighed before looking back up at him. "The worlds gone to shit. Don't stay in one place for too long. Get in and out of large towns quickly. I don't believe in the term safety in numbers, that's why I was alone for two years," I explained, feeling like Shane's eyes could see right through to my soul.

"Why did you start following Daryl and Merle around?"

"Because I fell in love," I finally admitted after taking a few seconds to decide if I should tell him or not.

"Daryl?" he asked, although it was obvious he knew. I nodded unsurely. "You can't tell me you fell in love with a guy you had just met."

"No, he saved my life before I actually decided to join them. Thought I'd never see 'em again."

Just then, he leaned down and softly kissed me. At first, I jolted back, shocked. He looked surprised himself.

"Sorry, I know we just met. Sorry," he pleaded. I smiled confidently and sent a soft kiss back.

"Don't be," I whispered, my eyes glazing over a bit as soon as the event soaked in.

He was a really good kisser. Really good. I found myself wanting more.

"Hey, are you okay?" we heard from the direction of the camp. I quickly scooted away from Shane and saw the one that had a handlebar mustache and always wore a trucker hat, Jim; emerge from the blanket of trees.

"We're fine," Shane said, wiping his nose on his arm. I nodded my head, agreeing.

"You been crying, man?" Jim asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Let's head back to camp."


	4. Days are Forgotten

I didn't sleep at all that night.

Not like it was different than any other night, but compared to holing yourself into a random house with the risk of never waking up again, this was much safer. Guns and protection all on top of a forest cliff.

The only problem with this is that we'd be the first ones to go if Walkers infiltrated the camp, since there were no extra tents to accommodate us. Sleeping bags with one extra blanket to be shared between me and the Dixons, warmheartedly donated to us from Carol, would have to do.

I leaned against the makeshift pillow I made out of Daryl's forearm and tried my hardest to ignore the tremors made from Merle's snoring as I looked up into the cloudless, summer sky, peering up at Sagittarius and thinking about me and Shane's earlier conversation.

Was the fact that Daryl saved my life not once, but twice, making me think that I was in love with him? What did love really feel like? Now that I think about it, I never loved something more than I loved running. I don't think I've ever loved a single human being in my entire life.

"You don't have any right," I angrily spat, aiming my gun in between the eyebrows of the man that almost killed me twenty seconds ago. In return, he had his crossbow pointed directly on my chest, aimed above my heart.

"Oh, but darling," he sneered, "I do."

His brother kept watch in back of me for the sake of Walkers as much as if I tried to escape. I thought of looking back to see if I had any advantages, but I couldn't risk a crossbow bolt through my heart. Things were getting sticky.

"This is my area," I claimed, tilting my head backwards as if to prove dominance. I was far from it.

"It's the end of the world and yet you still think there is territory. You are a silly little girl," he mocked, his thick redneck twang not helping his shitty attitude. There was nothing I hated more than being called a little girl, especially by a man that didn't look much older than myself. My cheeks flared red as I huffed the hot Georgia air.

"Then why don't you take your own advice and get you and your hick brother outta here?"

His fists clenched on the crossbow. He now wanted to shoot me badly; his knuckles became white as he traced the trigger. I hit a soft spot, possibly calling him a hick got to him as bad as me being called little girl. I had to risk that it did.

"Hey Merle," he called, moving his head towards his brother but not taking his eyes off me. It sounded more flattering than it really was.

"Yo, Daryl."

Mental note: Merle and Daryl.

"How long till sunrise, would you say?"

I glanced to the broken window to my left. The sun was setting quickly. It was already displaying stripes of deep orange and purple across the dark blue sky. The trees glowed yellow as I watched the celestial ball of fire go below the tree line. I estimated about 30 minutes left of valuable sunlight.

"Two hours, at least."

I scoffed and looked back at Merle, who looked at his brother and chuckled.

"Well what do you say, Ms. Expert-at-Shit?"

"Thirty minutes, at the most," I said matter of factly, ignoring the distain glares coming from Merle. My guard was down temporarily, which Daryl caught. Before I could raise my gun up again, he knocked my Beretta out of my hand, spraining my wrist. He hit me with the butt of his crossbow before I could retaliate. I fell to the ground, spitting blood out of my mouth from my newly split lip. Some type of remorse flashed on his features before the creases hardened again.

"Well, let's go to the roof then, shall we?" he sarcastically said, motioning to Merle to follow. He picked me up by the collar of my hoodie and came dangerously close to my face.

"You're not so tough without your gun, huh?" he whispered. The heat of his breath made me angrier, but something flashed through my stomach like lightning. Something that made me feel almost content.

"What, are you holding me captive now?"

"Something like that," Merle laughed and aimed his sniper rife at my head. I eyed the tip of it precariously.

"That's your weapon of choice," I rhetorically asked Merle and in return got the tip of it jammed on my head.

"Yeah, you gotta problem with that?"

"Why are you using that tone with me?" I asked honestly, attempting to swivel around as his brother dragged me up concrete stairs. Instead, he pulled at my collar harder.

"First you gotta problem with my gun," he started, going in front of his brother to open the rooftop door, "and now, you have a problem with me. Well, we're gonna have fun."

They both laughed and stepped out onto the roof, of course with me dragging behind them. Literally.

"Fuck off," I said as Merle's brother let go of my hoodie and slammed me down on the rooftop's ledge. It was only a couple of inches wide, which put me on edge. (Pun definitely intended). But seriously. I was on the edge of a six story building. It was a little unnerving.

"Do you ever shut up?" Merle yelled and spun around, pointing his inappropriately wielded snipe rifle in my face. I stood up unafraid that he had authority to blow my brains out of my ears. He snickered and turned to his brother, who looked like he was either going to puke or stop Merle from feeding the endlessly restless Walkers my head below. And I could tell you this, his face started turning a little green.

"Fuck. You."

He laughed and hit me again with his gun, this time putting me off balance. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, carefully placing the strap near his neck. It swung around his waist and hit me once again.

"WAHHAH!" I screamed bloody murder as Merle's gun hit my arm once again, making me trip over my own feet. The tip of my converse got caught on the ledge, sending me into a tumble over the side of the building.

"No!" I heard before taking the dive, feeling a hand tightly wrap around my ankle. I yelled again when he didn't pull me up right away and let my body smash against the brick exterior of the office building.

"Do. Not. Fucking. Let. Go," I muttered through clenched teeth, watching below as excited Walkers gathered around as fresh blood dripped down from my forehead.

"Having fun yet, sweet cheeks?" Merle called from above, laughing as he looked down at the feasting Walkers. Some blood got on another Walker and I watched in disgust as the others fed on it.

"A little help here, guys?" I asked and attempted to lift myself up before he pulled me back.

"A thank you would be nice," he hinted, reaching in to wipe the blood off my face. I pushed him away and sighed at his hurt expression.

"I do believe you just saved my life, Mr. Dixon," I muttered and rubbed my head. And my arm. And my ankle.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Merle sighed impatiently at the both of us.

"Well, I don't know about you two but I'm bouncing this joint. You coming with us, sweet cheeks?"

"Well, would you look at the time," I commented before answering his question, looking down at my wrist and tapping a pretend watch, "It's sunset, and exactly at my estimated time."

"Shit, guess we'll have to hunker down here."

"Yeah but don't expect us to be here in the morning," Daryl sorrowfully added. I patted his shoulder and laid down right where I stood.

"That's definitely not a problem."

I woke in the morning to the sound of a jeep leaving the parking lot. An unexpected pang of loneliness hit my gut as I watched them peel away from the building, shooting every Walker that reached their path. Instead of crying like a wuss which I predicted would happen, I swallowed a hard, tear jerking lump that invaded my throat and went on with my day. Like any other day.


	5. Die Tonight Live Forever

"MERRY BIRTHDAY-DAY!" I heard someone yell in my ear, awaking me from the blissful sleep I close to never got anymore. A moan escaped my lips as I blindly swatted the air beside me, hoping I'd hit a face. Instead, the face's owner grabbed my wrist and pulled me off the air mattress. My eyes opened carefully to focus on the uncharacteristically joyous face that stared into mine.

"What the hell is Birthday-Day?" I muttered to Daryl Dixon, who still stared at me with his hands behind his back.

"Where it's everyone's birthday 'cuz we don't know the date," he mocked, "it's 'mandatory'."

"'S that?" I pointed to his crossed arms, first rubbing my eyes of the last bit of drowsiness.

"Well, uh, me and Andrea kinda collaborated to get something for you."

"And, everyone's getting something?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, pulling out a tiny, crinkly wrapped box. I wrinkled my eyebrows and took it out of his hands as Andrea peeked into the tent. She excitedly crawled in and sat next to me. Daryl followed her steps and sat on the other side of the air mattress.

"I feel like an asshole," I laughed, tugging at the corner of the gold foiled wrapping, "I didn't even know it was 'Birthday-Day'."

"Well, I heard you had some way to keep track of time," Andrea said, glancing at Daryl and widening her smile as I further ripped the paper. "Maybe we can go back to old ways now, huh?"

"You'll make it up to us. We have to go to town anyway," Daryl commented, hinting at me as he nudged my shoulder with his.

"Depends how awesome this one is," I jokingly murmured, tearing the last bit of paper to reveal a black box in the center. I felt like a kid again, giddy on Christmas Eve as i scoped all the presents under the tree. It seemed this one present added up to more glee than I felt from all my childhood presents combined. It no longer mattered what was being held in the box.

I squealed and opened the lid, widening my eyes as I watched the aquamarine gem glisten under the high noon sun. It was a ring; nothing fancy or bright or even big. It was the perfect size to not get in the way while I killed or fought or ran for my life. Andrea took the box and wrapping as I picked the ring up, sliding it on my middle finger and admiring it.

"So," Andrea asked, staring at me for signs of any disgust or disappoint. Instead, I kept my smile and looked at her.

"I love it," I squeaked, following a series of very girly giggles and hugs. Daryl coughed, stopping us from freaking out.

"Just because we don't know you too well doesn't mean you don't deserve anything," Andrea commented lovingly, and even though I didn't know her either, I hugged her like she was family.

"But, you didn't know I was coming," I said, almost panicky, "how did you know to get me something?"

"We just came back from a quick run in town," she shrugged.

"I see you like it," Dale called from the edge of the sleeping bad, his smile increasing as mine did.

"Did you pick it out?" I asked Dale, slightly leaning against Daryl. It wasn't exactly supposed to be a romantic move, but it ended up being so. He placed his hand on my thigh, sending lightening through his fingertips directly to my heart.

"No, I did not," he sighed, shifting his weight to a regular standing position, "I told 'em it was about today. But here comes Merle. I want to die an old man, you know."

We all chuckled, agreeing with Dale's subtle hint towards Merle's violent behavior. I oddly got along with the Dixon brothers, in contrast of everyone else's hatred attitude toward him. I could have considered Merle to be one of my best friends. Dale walked away just as Merle came up and, uninvited, crawled next to us.

"Oh, we're gettin' cozy in here, huh?" Merle commented, taking notice that Daryl's hand was on my thigh and Andrea was practically sitting on me.

"Well good motherfucking morning to you, too," I muttered, thinking about moving away from Daryl but it was way too comfortable. I probably could fall asleep again if Merle didn't start yapping his lips about Andrea.

"So sugartits," Merle called, raising his eyebrows and eyeing Andrea creepily. I laughed and watch the drama unfold. "You gotta present for me?"

"Fuck off, Merle," she retorted, spikes shooting out of her tone compared to Merle's sensual one.

"Off? Maybe replace that with me and we have a deal."

"You know where you can shove your 1980's pickup lines? Up your motherfu-"

"Yo, guys," I snickered, Merle and Andrea reminding me of an old married couple that argues every five seconds, "can you take it somewhere else?"

"Oh, a little privacy," Andrea wiggled her eyebrows up and down and smacked Merle's arm, watching him from her peripherals.

"You little shit," he laughed and stood up with Andrea in tow. She wiggled her eyebrows one last time and joined her usual position next to Amy.

"I'm glad you liked it," Daryl whispered in my ear once everyone was out of earshot. I glanced toward the Carol's tent one last time and caught her suspicious glares. She walked away before I could react further.

"I'm guessing it was Andrea's choosing?"

"Not all the way," he said blankly, tracing the lace that outlined the bottom of my grey spaghetti strap shirt, "she picked a few out and I chose my favorite."

"Well, it's beautiful," I whispered, leaning my head back to rest on his left shoulder. Both of his hands slowly trailed down my body until he reached the hem of my shirt. I shivered severely, the tropical heat quickly catching up to me, warming my body again. His fingertips felt like fire as he lifted the corner of the thin fabric and slid his hand across my stomach.

"Are those... abs I feel?" he chuckled and massaged my stomach further.

"Indeed you do; upper body strength is one of my star attributes," I boasted proudly, turning right and snuggling into his bicep.

"Guys?" Carol unsurely called out, posing in her usual crossed arms/furrowed eyebrow look. Those eyebrows either told curiosity or worry, this was definitely curious, but not the good kind. There was one thing I didn't enjoy out of Carol, and it was her ability to stick her nose in other people's business and seem innocent about it. She was a sweet girl, yeah. But she thought her kind nature was an excuse to be apart of everyone's life.

"Merry, uh, Birthday," I said sweetly, and didn't even fake it. I really did like her, most of the time.

"Thanks," she smiled and crouched down to our height, "The same to you both."

Daryl let go of me and slightly inched away, making me look at him in heavy suspicion. I quickly dismissed it.

"Does Sophia know about today?" I asked, genuinely wanting to strike a conversation. I looked up at her bright eyed as she helped me out of the tent. I wiped off the excess dirt from my jeans from yesterday's 'roll in the dirt' and in turn helped Daryl out. He gladly took my hand and didn't let go until Carol started talking again.

"So since we are still celebrating," she started, grinning as she glanced down at the ring on my finger, "I was just wondering if you two can run a few errands to town and in the woods?"

"Why can't Shane do it?" Daryl asked, looking towards the sky to find any signs of rain. Fortunately, no rain clouds were found. It was a sunny, summer like day.

"Well, you have hunting skills and Ayden has taste in fashion."

"Thank you," I pleasantly accepted her complement, nodding my head.

"So you're telling me I'm in charge of dinner and Ayden's in charge of gifts?"

"Yes," she agreed excitedly and pulled a piece of paper out of her back pocket. She quickly unfolded the paper and handed it to me. It listed what everyone wanted.

"'S the apocalypse and here we are, celebratin'" Daryl muttered, not exactly angered but not enthused either.

"Oh come on, Daryl," I joked, hitting his side with my ass, "At least try to hide your content."

"Jesus, I'll try," he mocked sarcastically and gently hit me back. Wrapping his arm around my neck, he peeked over my shoulder to read the list. Everyone's name was on the list except Daryl, Carol, and me.

"Where's your name?" I asked Carol, flipping the paper over but finding no more writing.

"I'd rather be surprised," she shrugged and unexpectedly grabbed me in a hug, "be careful."

She walked away to join where everyone else gathered and left us two without any other explanation.

"I didn't give her an answer," I commented, holding the list up and looking at Daryl for an answer.

"Guess we kinda don't have a choice," he said and picked up his crossbow that sat on his tent, nearby the one I shared with Andrea and Amy. We were tent neighbors, which made it easy to talk to each other at night without waking everybody else up.

"This is a long list," I commented, quickly scanning the names down the list.

"Read it while we walk," Daryl said, obviously in a hurry.

"Well, can I get my gear on first?" I scoffed and crawled into my tent, sliding my socks and combat boots on. He huffed impatiently as I tied my laces.

"You done yet?"

I reached over my mattress and grabbed the knife holster I usually kept on even while sleeping. I strapped it over my thigh and pulled the knife out, checking that it was still good to go. It was as good in condition as when I first found it.

"Yes, I'm finally done," I mocked and climbed out of the tent, once again swiping the dirt off my knees. Daryl took a step back and looked me up and down, especially lingering at my lower half.

"Skinny jeans, thigh holster, and combat boots," he tsked, shooing me along.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've never seen any hotter combination."

A blush invaded my cheekbones, bringing out the strong Italian-Indian light olive toned skin I wielded proudly. My skin was almost as dark as Shane's. Plus, the sun had a factor in the darkness of my skin. If it was any colder out I probably could blend in with Daryl's skin when it gets breaded with sand. Mmm... I bet sand breaded Daryl would be a nice meal for Walkers.

Eew. I can't believe I just thought of that.

"Carl wants a BB gun," I read off the list that Carol must have concocted up, since the handwriting was beyond neat.

"This is bullshit. Watch your step," Daryl muttered, jumping over an overgrown tree root. I removed the list from my face a few seconds to follow his lead.

"Sophia wants a black and purple pillow pet. How cute," I admired, watching Daryl angrily stomp over the road that crossed in between the forest, spotting a Walker and precisely shooting an arrow though its skull.

"Don't see why we have to do this."

"Because we are the best," I attempted to lift his spirits. He hacked at loose branches with his knife. "Lori wants a necklace. Doesn't even say what kind."

I followed Daryl into the second half of the forest, him and I both looking around intently for Walkers.

"Risking our lives for toys and a necklace. Fantastic."

I rolled my eyes at his grumpiness. "I, for one, am exceptionally honored to be the one to go instead of Glenn. Ed wants a knife."

"Yeah, that's exactly what the dude needs," Daryl started, "something that can kill."

"Ed can kill someone without a knife, and I don't mean that to be a complement. Andrea wants a new tank top. Dammit, I don't know her size."

"I know why Carol wanted us to go," Daryl confidently said, still quite a bit of angry in his voice.

"Why?" I asked, and then continued down the list. "Amy wants some boots. Oh, good. We wear the same size. "

"'Cuz I'm the expert hunter and you're the 'going to town' girl."

"What does it matter then, between me and Glenn? Jacqui wants a jacket. Oh, I did notice she didn't have one. It does get pretty cold out at night."

I spotted a Walker from not too far and quickly snuck up on it, taking my knife out of its holster and jabbing it up through the back of the skull. Sucker didn't even see me coming.

"Good one," Daryl commented, my maneuver seeming to brighten his day up a speck, "Because you're a girl. You naturally have taste. Glenn would prolly pick out random stuff 'nd leave everyone unhappy."

"That's true. I've always wondered if Glenn was better than me at this stuff. Morales and his family would like Monopoly. Aww, family game night."

"I'm biased, don't ask me. I've never been to town with 'em."

"Well, neither have I. T-Dog wants an old school Ice Cube CD. Now, how did I know that was going to be under his name?"

Luckily, this side of the forest was shorter and less dangerous than the side closest to the camp. What I never understood is why they picked the dangerous side. True, there was more wildlife on that side.

"Hungry?" Daryl asked, positioning his crossbow directly in the crosshairs of a squirrel. I swear. What is up with Daryl and squirrels?

"I have food in the backpack. Plus, we're going to town. There'll be food there," I explained before Daryl sent an arrow through the squirrel, pinning it to the tree. "Or, you can save it for camp. That's an option, I guess."

"I thought you were going to read off the list every time you spoke," Daryl commented, taking notice that I purposefully was doing that.

"I thought you were going to make a snarky comment every time you opened your mouth. Dale wants more ammo for his sniper rifle. Cool, gotta stop by there anyway."

"Touché," Daryl said, impressively looking back to me.

"Yep, that's me. Ayden's top skills: Agility and smartassing."

"I'll remember to bring that up at your funeral," he snickered and flinched when I hit him over the head with the list.

"You're not going to outlive me. Glenn wants a new pair of kicks, either Adidas or Nikes. Don't know his size either, what is up with Carol not putting sizes?"

"You wanna bet? You'd probably be dead if it wasn't for Merle and me."

"Oh yeah," I said sarcastically, "two years alone is definitely not enough time to figure out how to survive. Lastly, Shane wants a burger from Burger King. What the hell?"

"Oh, god. Doesn't that sound good right about now," Daryl murmured, glancing at the squirrel with disappointment.

"Squirrels don't taste that bad," I lied. "At least it's better than fatty food that might taste delicious but somehow it leaves you feeling empty and sad inside."

"Sounds like an ex," he snickered.

"Oh, yeah? And what exactly do you know about that?"

"Hey," Daryl stopped in his tracks and turned to face me, "I had chicks lining up for me back in the day."

I covered my mouth before a bellowing laugh could escape, but before my hand reached my mouth, it came flowing out like Niagara Falls.

"Sorry," I apologized in between gasps of breath.

"Don't forget who you're with now, thank you very much. You're practically dissing yourself."

"What do you mean?" I asked one we started walking again and my giggles ceased.

"Well, we're kinda together, right?" Daryl asked cautiously. I paused and thought of this for a minute. I mean, if he said we were, then I'd be all for it.

But my mind seemed to venture off to Shane and the first night at camp. In the forest... the kiss. Did that mean anything?

"Uh, that's a no, I guess," Daryl nervously laughed and put the dead squirrel around his belt.

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking," I said, pausing for a shorter time this time. "It's your call."

He stopped and looked back at me with optimistic eyes. I hadn't seen him that happy since, well, that morning. But before that... I don't think ever.

"Ya really mean that?" he asked quietly as if he didn't have any words.

"Daryl," I sighed, not exactly ready to spill my emotions but willing to, "I like you."

"Well, I think you're the only one," he muttered, picking up a stick and toying with it mindlessly.

"No," I replied, hitting a tree with my knife, "I like, like you."

He paused and dropped the stick, looking at me like I held the secrets of the world. Well, I guess that would be the cure, then. Wish I did.

"What?" he asked, cocking his head and taking a step closer. I furrowed my eyebrows and put my knife back in its place.

"Since you grabbed my ankle, saved my life," I began, taking a deep breath and coming closer, "I-I, oh god, I don't know."

Before I could explain myself further, or at least attempt to, he slung his crossbow across his shoulder and closed the gap between us, grabbing my waist and jamming his lips against mine. I instinctively tried to jerk back, but luckily his hard grip on my waist kept me in place. Daryl moved away from my lips slowly, only stopping when he reached my eyes.

"Do you wanna know why I saved you from falling off the roof?"

"I've wanted to know since you came back," I whispered, putting my forehead on the crook of his neck and closing my eyes. In response, he rested the side of his head on mine.

"I knew you were different when I first saw you," he laughed, stroking my hair, "I couldn't have your blood on my hands."

I sighed and snuggled in further as he rocked me slowly.

"But why would you care about someone that you just met?"

"It's one of those things you can't explain, I guess," Daryl reminiscently whispered, stopping the movement of his hand against my grimy hair. I quickly widened my eyes when he slowly let go of me and hastily pushed me in back of him.

"What, what?" I excitedly asked, thinking that if it was a Walker he wouldn't push me in back of him like that.

"Sniper," he whispered, slightly turning so I could see Georgia's city skyline, not three miles away from where we stood.

"Sniper? How is that possible?" I said, mostly to myself.

"Building with about five floors, closer than that one with the plate glass windows. Top floor, six windows to the right," he said seriously, moving completely out of the way so I could see.

I scoped out the building that Daryl was referring to; it was an old building, probably not the best to inhabit. After three years of surviving in a post apocalyptic world, you learn to assume that if there are any other survivors, they KNOW how to survive. In this far in the game, there's no blind luck you're surviving.

There. I spotted the military grade grey sniper rifle sticking out of the building's window, pointed towards the forest.

"If the guy saw us, you'd think he'd shoot?" I asked Daryl, looking up at his creased face.

"I don't have a doubt he would."


	6. End to the Lies

"Well let's go check this motherfucker out then, huh?" I said excitedly, tapping Daryl's chest and making my way down a steepish hill that came before a side street of Georgia.

"Wait," he quickly said, tugging on my arm. I backed up and waited patiently for an explanation. "Let's arc around, jus to make sure he doesn't see us."

"Psh, sounds like a plan to me," I replied, shrugging my shoulders as I followed him through the wide space of trees.

"Glenn comes this way all the time," Daryl roughly added, being extra careful not to step on crunchy leaves. "When did he go last?"

"Yesterday," I breathlessly answered, "doesn't mean the sniper wasn't here then."

"But think about it," he said, "you gotta assume this guy's gonna shoot anything that moves."

"I dunno," I uneasily replied. "Think we're safe yet?"

Before answering me, Daryl looked towards the sky where the sun was positioned. It was smack dab in the middle; noon.

"Yeah, you go ahead and head down there," Daryl blankly told me, "Imma check out the area, see if they went through here."

I swallowed hard and nodded my head reluctantly.

"Promise me you'll be careful," I pleaded seriously. He looked back at me like I was insane.

"What's the worst that can happen, really? Walkers ain't a problem," he said confidently, holding up his crossbow and wiggling it.

I laughed nervously and nodded my head a second time, getting to the crown of the hill before looking back at Daryl. He was watching me intently.

"Are you gonna stand there and stare at me the whole time?" I yelled jokingly to him. He raised his arm slowly, giving me a grand finale of sticking out his middle finger.

"Oh, that is so nice of you," I snarled, butterflies going insane in my stomach when he lowered his arm and laughed wholeheartedly. I giggled and stood there longer, watching him watch me. I finally gave in and ran the distance between us, running straight to his arms and jamming a kiss on his lips.

"It should be me who's telling you to be careful," he laughed, pulling away but keeping ahold of my hand.

"I'm a girl," I teased, "I'm naturally careful."

"Ooh, I wouldn't say that," he argued, "betcha wouldn't say the same about Lori."

"She's careful," I thought, "to an extent."

"And yours doesn't have any extent, right?"

"Are you making fun of me?" I accused, slapping his chest before romantically pecking him and letting go, remaking my way to the edge of the hill.

"Promise me you'll be careful," Daryl mocked in a hideous high pitched voice.

"See, now you're really making fun of me," I called back. "And I do not sound like that."

"Oh, look at me," he continued, waving his hand in the air and holding up a pretend skirt, "I'm a girl, that makes me naturally cautious."

"That's cute, Daryl. I'm leaving now," I laughed, shaking my head as I carefully made my way down the hill. It was steeper than the incline back at the viewpoint.

"Try not to chip a nail, precious!" Daryl loudly called out to me, laughing equally loudly.

"Fuck you, Daryl!"

_Damn birds_, I thought to myself as I slowly grabbed the skinny trees trunk to steady myself on the incline. I always hated when they rustled the tree branches. They put me on edge and way more paranoid then I should have been.

A louder rustle caught my attention once I got down from the hill. I looked to the top for any signs of bigger wildlife, or maybe even something that could eat me. So far, there had been more bear sightings than Walkers.

Something then whistled past my ear, an all too familiar whistle.

Someone just tried to shoot me from behind and missed my ear by a quarter of an inch.

I swiveled around quickly to see a gun pointed directly at my temple. A ferocious looking man held the gun, until I glanced down at his pants. He was wearing Bermuda's with a pink belt. The fuck.

"You the sniper?" I asked bluntly, controlling my face to seem calm. For the situation I was in, I was actually doing pretty well at not shitting my pants. Laughing.

He laughed and lowered his gun, putting it in his pants waistband.

Wrong move, that was. Especially when you're dealing with me.

I swiftly pulled out my knife, sliding in back of him and grabbing his neck with the crook of my arm. I placed the blade of my favorite melee weapon right on top of his jugular. One wrong move and he'd bleed out within five minutes.

"Woah, calm the fuck down! Is it that hard to be civilized around here?" he squealed, raising my suspicions across the board about this dude. How he had survived this long is a mystery to mankind.

"Guess you didn't get the memo," I snarled, "there is no civilization."

He tried to escape my hold, for a few seconds forgetting there was a knife close to killing him. He quickly stopped struggling and held up his hands. I rolled my eyes; he had total advantage to use his gun. And guns usually win against knifes.

"Ayden Arezzo," I finally said in my nice guy tone, removing the blade from his neck and placing it back in it's holster.

He slowly turned around as if he moved; I would pull that shit out again. He seemed harmless- no, he had to be harmless enough.

"Uh... Jimmy Brewer. I thought for sure you were gonna cut my fuckin' throat out. Didn't mean to shoot at you, I thought you were one of them." Jimmy explained, straightening out a plain black tee that tightly fit on him.

"Don't worry, man. I guess it's my karma getting back at me. Oh, I like your kicks," I pointed out, looking towards where I heard the rustle in the first place. "Hey, listen. Do you have any other guys out here?"

"Yeah, I got Thrash up the hill a ways and the sniper you were talking about, Verlaine holding fort."

"Shit," I sighed, combing my sweaty bangs off of my face, "Would he be the type of guy to hold a dude with a crossbow hostage?"

"Probably, why?"

"Because that's my boyfriend he just ran into. Call out to Thrash, chances are if we didn't hear them they didn't hear us."

Jimmy called out to thrash, coning his hands around his mouth and facing the top of the hill.

"Yo, Urine. I knew yous didn't go far," Thrash answered back with a heavy New York accent, "come here, see what I jus' caught. By the way, whadcha jus' shoot?"

"Nothin," Jimmy replied anxiously, looking at me for approval. I nodded my head. "Got spooked by rattling branches."

"Lemme borrow your gun," I asked Jimmy an held out my hand. He took a step back.

"Uh, hell no. I don't know you yet."

"Look, this is how we're playing this," I whispered, intimidatingly closing the gap between us, "I will pretend to hold you hostage and we will do a fair 'trade', okay? I promise I will not shoot you."

"I dunno," Jimmy nervously said. I put my hand on my knife holster as a warning.

"I really do not want to take pretend out of the game plan, so are you fucking with me, or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. Calm down," he raised his hands and lowered them, signaling me to lower my voice. Jimmy took the automatic out of his waistband and reluctantly handed it over.

"Okay," I explained cautiously, creeping up to the back of him, "I am going to do the same maneuver, 'cept with a gun. Sound good?"

"I don't know whether to trust you or not," he said through barred teeth as I gently wrapped my arm around his neck and aimed the gun directly at his head.

"If it's Daryl we're talking about, I'm the only one to trust."

Jimmy was visibly shaking under my grasp, my words only making a dent in his nerves. I sighed and licked my lips.

"Would it make you feel better if I put it on safety?"

"What's that?" Jimmy honestly asked. I shook my head.

This guy and I are not going to get along.

"It's makes it so the trigger locks in place," I impatiently answered, clicking the safety on before putting it in front of his face and pulling on the trigger. "See?"

"Yeah," he still shook, "okay."

We quickly made our way up the hill, only stopping before we reached the top, then slowing our pace down.

"Finally, bro. It's gotta be a hundred degrees out-" Thrash paused, glancing behind him, to me.

"Let go of Daryl and I'll hand over Jimmy," I spat, looking at Daryl for guidance.

Other than the few scratches across his face, he looked in good condition. He was leaning against a tree with Thrash's shotgun aimed directly toward his face.

"Ooh, she's a pretty one, Daryl," Thrash snarled, tapping him in the head for his attention. Daryl defiantly looked up at him, fire in his eyes.

"Shut up before I forcibly violate your skull with a rusty screwdriver," Daryl said, Thrash whistling in reaction as I raised my eyebrows.

"Violence," I explained, "Daryl makes it happen better than he can creatively come up with it."

"Well, thank ya," Daryl laughed, looking up at Thrash, "this comin' from the girl that can think up gory phrases better than I can."

I blushed a deep red, quickly after throwing my game face back on.

"So we gonna trade or not?" I yelled, making poor Jimmy jump.

"Depends," he said calmly, placing his hand on his chin. "I see an uneven deal here."

"On what side?" I preposterously asked, figuring even though Jimmy was a dumbass he'd still say Daryl.

"What?" Jimmy and Daryl said at the same time, narrowing their eyes at each other.

"Well, see your lil boyfriend right here," he jabbed Daryl with his shotgun, "he knows howta hunt. Pretty good with dem crossbow skills I assume, right?"

"Get to the point, Thrash," I growled, growing tired of him toying with words.

"How good's your sharpshooting? I also assume yous the jack of all aces in da group?"

"Better than Verlaine's, I bet you a Benjamin," I replied, getting confused looks from Daryl and angry looks from Thrash.

"Goddamit, Jimmy! Do ya always go around yappin' your mouth to to everyone you just met?" Thrash yelled, at Jimmy, taking his gun away from Daryl for a split second.

It was long enough for him to react. And long enough for me to catch his drift.

I pushed Jimmy aside just as Daryl extended his leg and tripped Thrash, turning the tables and putting his crossbow in Thrash's face.

"Oh, look what's happened now," I laughed, making my way to Thrash. I even swayed my hips a little, making my walk look more dramatically sexy. Although I could see Daryl really, really wanting to look over, he remained concentrated on Thrash. As a plus, my tight jeans, combat boots, and thigh holster added to the wholes sexiness of it all. Like Daryl commented earlier.

"Listen, we don't want anything from you," I said, crouching over Thrash and looking at Daryl. He slyly smiled and lovingly bumped my shoulder.

"You all can just go along back to your hideout, huh?" Daryl suggested, making it sound more demanding than a suggestion.

"Wait, wait!" Jimmy exclaimed, suddenly standing up and pointing toward the city.

"Walkers?" I asked, walking intently to where Jimmy stood. Someone was running this way, who I assumed was Verlaine. She had bright purple hair and was running quite fast. In fact, it seemed as if we ever were to race it would be very, very close.

"Verlaine! What the fuck are you doing?" Thrash said

Once Daryl moved to my side and he followed. We all stood in a uneven but technically straight line, watching as the girl with purple hair rushed toward us.

Before she could stop, Verlaine ran straight into Thrash, knocking him clear off his feet. I flinched back and covered my mouth as she and Thrash slowly got up, both of them trying to catch their breath.

"Walkers... Overrun..." she paused to look at Daryl and I, giving me a curious glance and Daryl a disgusted one.

"This is Ayden and Daryl," Jimmy amended, waving his hand to include the both of us.

"Yo," I said, standing up straight and shoving my hands in my pockets.

Verlaine scoffed. "Which ones the dude?"

"Watch your fucking mouth before I have to cut it off," Daryl snared, taking a step forward and getting his crossbow ready.

"Woah, Daryl," I said, pushing him back, "calm down. It's no argument why the Geeks swarmed the place, in between your traffic directing hair and that loud ass snipe of yours-"

"Take your boyfriends words into consideration," Verlaine interrupted, "before I make them into my own."

"Ooh," I exhaled sarcastically, "scary."

"This bitch is getting on my nerves, where'd you dig up these shit birds anyway, Thrash?"

He held up his hands like he didn't know where we came from.

"I'd watch who you're calling bitch," I said, letting a smile invade my mouth. I'd always thought when people talked shit about me, it was hilarious.

"What are you gonna do?" she laughed, looking around to get her groups approval. They shook their heads cautiously.

"Oh, it's not me you need to worry about," I said, glancing over to Daryl and taking my hands out of the jean's pockets. I started pacing around Verlaine, keeping a very close eye on her.

"You sic your boyfriend after all your problems?" she laughed mockingly again, releasing a snicker out of me.

"No, it's what he'll do to your dead body after I'm done with it," I snarled, probably the most serious tone I've used with her yet. It silenced her as she looked at me in distinct veracity.

"Any other choice phrases you'd like to hear," Daryl commented, walking to my side and grabbing my waist, "because she has a lot more than that."


	7. Farewell to the Fairground

"You think you're so tough," Verlaine lightly snarled, standing still in place and placing her hands on her hips. "How 'bout a little competition, between us two girls. How does that sound?"

Daryl shook his head. "Aw, hell. Here it goes."

"I suppose there would be something in it for the winning person?" I asked.

"I keep your boyfriends crossbow," she menacingly answered. I whistled impressively.

"What if I win? By the rate you're going, you better be getting me a small island."

"That pretty sniper rifle you saw up there," she said, watching my face with pleasure as my cocky smile grew.

"Hey, Ayden. Can we have a moment... Privately?"

Daryl called, grabbing my arm before I could retaliate.

"What the hell do you think you're?" He demanded to know, in a whisper so low I could barely hear it.

"I have to do this," I replied harshly and hushed, looking at Verlaine just in case she knew what we were saying.

"For what?" he asked, also glancing at Verlaine..

"I want that rifle," I replied confidently, "I'll do my best."

I gave him a romantic peck and grabbed him in a reassuring hug, whispering you know me in his ear. You know me. I can do this.

"Deal," Daryl reluctantly told Verlaine, the same cockiness shown in her as in me.

"But wait a second, you said the place was swarmed with Walkers," I realized.

"Oh, I forgot to mention I'd risk going up there and getting it," she added, bending down and stretching her hamstrings. I also started to stretch my legs.

"It sounds like there's more risk involved on your side for my winnings," I suspiciously commented.

"I figured you'd think it's fair," Verlaine questioned, "I suggested something that isn't yours and probably of sentimental value. To make it even, I threw in a little extra."

"Alright, you gotta deal as long as I get to go with you up there," I said as we shook hands on it.

"You gotta deal," she smiled overconfidently. I was going to ice her ass. "Is there gonna be, like, an obstacle course or something?"

"No, here's what we're gonna do," she annotated, coming closer to me. Her threatening tone was gone, replaced by a serious and maybe even friendly one. "Run to the city and find a souvenir to prove you were there. Come back here and whoever gets here first, wins."

"How do I know you're not gonna skip out on me? Have this thing rigged or something?"

She raised her right hand and stood up straight. "By the power of my control, I, Verlaine Aideen Dubatin hereby consent my trust and if I should go against this event, shall 100 Walkers feast on my living body."

"Well, then," I said, not fully but much more convinced, "let's do this shit."

"Are you ready?" Jimmy called, who was acting as our waving flag chick similar but what I hoped was manlier then what's seen at street racing competitions.

"Wait, that's not fair," I said after seeing Verlaine take out a silenced Beretta, very similar to mine.

"Here," Daryl said, unslinging his crossbow and handing it over, "if this is its last moments with me, I want it to be used for something."

"It will remain yours, I promise," I whispered in his ear.

"What about you?" he worriedly said. I raised the crossbow and shook it.

"I got this," I laughed and hugged him once more. Verlaine huffed impatiently.

Before getting into starting position, I snugly slung the crossbow over my shoulder so the strap went vertically over my chest. Even though it would rattle when I ran, the chains on Verlaine's pants would be fair enough or maybe even louder.

"On your mark," Jimmy singsonged, forcing myself to look at the kid and raise my eyebrows before getting into standard crouching position. "Get set."

"Good luck," Verlaine snickered just as Jimmy took a deep breath.

"Go!" he yelled, sending Verlaine and I running off into the forest clearing.

Damn, she was fast. We were side to side for the most part, but our speeds fluctuated immensely. Verlaine was ahead at first, but as we hit the first street along the way to the city, I grew farther and farther ahead. If I were to guess, she was better at running on ground than pavement, the exact opposite of me.

Once we got to the city, we split paths. She went down south to a suburban part of the city and I went straight to the tourist popular shopping outlets. Other than the advantage of fewer Walkers, I would never pick a suburb. My way was faster, more accessible, and was damned if it didn't have a little Georgia gift shop.

"Shit!" I squealed as I rounded a buildings corner, Walkers spread out everywhere and fairly close to my position. As quickly as I could, which was pretty slow on account of my intermediate crossbow skills, I unslung it and readied an arrow. By the time I finished setting it, I could have drop kicked at least twenty Walkers that were quickening their pace towards me. This already was getting tedious and annoying.

There were more Geeks than there were arrows to kill them with. I shot the nearest Walker, and figuring I didn't have enough time to reload and shoot another; I reslung it over my shoulder and readied my knife. Until I had much better skills at the bow, I'd be leaving it alone. I yanked the bow out of its skull and started hacking off heads.

I cut through the crowd of Walkers pretty quick, aiming mostly for the neck or the lower part of the skull. By the time I was running for the next block, blood dripped from my hands and patches of crimson blotted my clothes.

"Someone ran into a little trouble! Try to tone down those war cries, it attracts them!" I heard Verlaine yell, following a very faint laugh. I wondered how she could yell that loud, but then again, I didn't know where she was. She could know a shortcut. That's when I realized: she probably knew Atlanta just as well as Glenn.

I still assumed she didn't for the sake of my optimism.

"Suhweet," I whispered as I rounded another corner and took a look into a dainty gift shop; only a few Walkers slithered inside. As a bonus, an unused axe sat in it's place in one of those red fire boxes perched on the wall.

I crept cautiously to the entrance door, scanning the handle to see if it was locked. It was. Of course, trying to make my life harder.

I took out my knife and bent down, slowly sliding it into the slit of the door and trying to find the thing that I had to push to release the lock. I just really, really hoped this thing wasn't rigged to an alarm.

Click! The lock shot open as I grabbed the handle to take advantage of the click to cover the noise of a turning door knob. Successful, so far.

I creaked the door open, peeking only my head in to see if the Walkers received notice of my appearance. They hadn't yet.

A floorboard creaked slightly as my weight shifted to the foot that I snuck into the doorway, putting me on edge as the nearest walker slowly turned and faced me. I swallowed hard as it growled and walked toward the door. I lunged toward it, sticking my knife in back of the skull.

Before I could dismember the second one, a petite figure blurred past me and shot the creature, first playfully slapping the top of my head.

"You little shit," I yelled at Verlaine, snatching the first keychain that colorfully displayed Georgia that was in my reach. In my peripherals, I saw Verlaine grab a Georgia decorated shotglass. Breakable, I thought, smiling as I stuck my foot out as she ran by.

Her reflexes were quick. She stumbled over my leg for a few seconds and right away, she placed both feet on the floor and ran out the door without a word.

"Verlaine!" I called, standing up from my crouching position, although I didn't know how I got there in the first place. I ran after her and as quickly as she righted herself from falling, I caught up to her. Verlaine was holding the glass carefully, wrapping her fingers around it as she pumped her arms.

I attempted to swat it out of her hands. In return, I got a swat to the face.

"That's cheating!" she yelled as we both ran towards the forest, aiming for the clearing we started out on.

"Do ya know what else is cheating? You knowing every nook and cranny of Atlanta!" I yelled back, turning to look at her annoyed expression turn into penitence.

"I safely assumed the same to you," she angrily spat, pulling the tripping maneuver I just had done. I dodged it delicately.

"Why? Gimme one good reason why you think this is not the first time I ever entered the city!"

"How would you know this isn't ours? Did the Asian boy ever tell you about the sniper?" she yelled , weakened, panting hard as she furrowed her eyebrows. Verlaine just gave herself away, I slyly thought, a smile spreading across my face. That and the fact my legs weren't tired the slightest.

"So not only do you have Atlanta on the back of your hand, you deliberately knew I never came with Glenn and set this up for your advantage?" I astonishingly asked, shaking my head as I watched the clearing get bigger and bigger.

"You're right," she dejectedly stated, not only slowing her pace down greatly but stopping altogether and resting her hands on her knees, "it's not fair."

I halted right away, turning back responsively and facing the purple haired girl that I thought was so much like me.

"Come on," I encouragingly said, hesitating my steps just in case she was misleading me. "At least finish."

"No," she heaved her breaths in and out, concerning me slightly as she started wheezing, "you win. The rifle is yours."

I took a cautious step forward, reaching my hand out to touch her shoulder.

"Putting your hands on your knees actually constructs your airways, even though it feels like it works. Try putting your hands on your head."

She stood up straight and did what I suggested. The wheezing went away immediately.

"Thanks," she coughed, resting her hands as the air came back to her.

"If it were my crossbow, I would tell you we could do a fair trade," I commented as we slowly made our way back. Deceit still lingered in the back of my head.

"No. I said who won could keep it. This is me officially withdrawing from the competition. And don't worry about me running ahead of you, I haven't the slightest drop of willpower in me left."

I chuckled as I helped her up the hill, placing my hand on her ribcage to steady her.

"You didn't run out of energy because I found out your secret," I stated curiously. "Why did you agree to a race that you knew you couldn't win?"

"Egotism," she laughed lifelessly, "a horrible curse that runs in my family."

"Oh, we're pretty close matched."

"Fuck that! If I didn't know that shortcut I woulda passed out before I hit the gift shop."

We got to the top of the hill, not expecting two confused faces and one angry one staring back at us. I bet you can guess which face belongs to the angry one.

"One of you best be quittin'," Daryl said, looking at us like we were bitten.

"I am," Verlaine sighed, lifting a weak hand.

Daryl looked relieved at first, and then as he looked at me, a proud smirk escaped.

I giggled gleefully and ran into his inviting arms, snuggling into his dirt caked neck as he swung me around a bit.

"Okay," Thrash threatened, pointing a finger at Verlaine and inching closer, "why did you let her win?"

"She didn't," I said, looking at Verlaine and smiling, "she thought I was the one who couldn't do it."

"Well," Jimmy said, clapping his hands, "guess Verlaine has to hand over the rifle then, huh?"

"It's not that easy. I- we still have to go get it," Verlaine commented, nodding her head towards me as if she was validating our agreement.

"If you're goin', I'm goin'," Daryl threw out, directly aimed at me.

"Yeah, ditto," Thrash said, but to Verlaine.

"I don't want to do the same thing you did to me," Daryl bluntly put. My mouth fell open just as Verlaine curiously glanced at us.

"I did to you! You left while I was sleeping," I castigated, "the least you could have done was tell me you were leaving."

"You almost shot my face off, I guess that makes us even," Daryl maliciously shouted. I let out a cry of aggravation and took an angry step away from him.

"I'm pretty sure shooting ones face off would be worse than not saying goodbye," Jimmy interjected, shrugging his shoulders when I tried to bore holes into his forehead with the lasers that were coming from my eyes.

"As much as I'd love to watch how this Dr. Phil episode turns out, we're wasting precious UV rays here," Thrash deferred. He pointed to the sun, which was a little under 60 degrees west.

"Let's get moving. We have to make a few other trips along the way, too," I said, looking at everyone before heading to the city.

"What do you mean a few stops? Have mail to drop off at the post office or something? Groceries to pick up because you're all out of eggs?" Verlaine sarcastically asked, confused.

"It's Christmas," I explained, unslinging Daryl's crossbow and handing it back to him, "We have a camp back a ways, it's supposed to be a surprise and shit."

Verlaine took the list I offered her. "Wow, you mean there's more than you both and the Asian boy?"

"Yeah! There's Carol and Jim and Jaqui-"

"Ed and Sophia and Lori," Daryl interrupted, smiling when I stuck my tongue out.

"And more," I added.

We hiked quickly down the incline, jogging to the main street before taking a sharp right.

"Wait, we're gonna leave Jimmy?" I asked, laughing and pointed in his general direction.

"He'll be fine," Thrash shrugged, "boy's obedient. He'll probably just sit on tha ground 'n listen to his iPod."

"Ya don't worry about Walkers?" Daryl asked, surprisingly friendly. I glanced at him and beamed a warm smile. In return, he bumped my waist with his and enfolded his hand in mine.

"You're playing nice," I hummed, exuberance beaming out of my fingertips as I kissed him on the cheek.

"Don't I always?" he joked, sending a kiss back.

"He knows what to do. Can't kill 'em, run the fuck away," Verlaine chuckled, glancing back to me for what felt like approval. I wrinkled my forehead and dumbstruckenly smiled.

"What was that?" Daryl whispered as Verlaine and Thrash commenced in their own conversation.

"What, that seeking approval side glance? I have no idea," I replied back, watching a slight but humorous argument unfold in front of me between Verlaine and Thrash.

"Maybe she sees you as a leader," Daryl suggested, glancing at the arguing couple ahead and smirking.

"Why? Am I the leader type?"

Daryl snorted. "I see the looks you give Dale when he calls something. Or anybody else, for that matter."

"What about Shane?"

"Shane... Not as much. You seem to have the same basic principles."

I looked to the ground and bit my lip; he was right. Most of Dale's opinions were illogical and impractical. I agreed with Shane 95% of the time. The other 5% was probably Andrea's callings.

"It's not good to have more than one leader type in the same room, forget in a group," Daryl laughed and squeezed my hand lovingly.

"D'ya really think I'm a leader?" I asked outright, turning my head slightly to peek at his expression.

"You were the one calling the shots before, right?"

"Uh, no. That was Merle," I snared, scrunching up my nose.

"But you were the one who checked the plans. You were the editor," he chuckled nostalgically. "You were the one who saved our asses from Merle's death traps."

We crossed the street, turning on one of the main streets towards downtown and right into a bunch of Walkers. Conventionally, we whipped out our weapons and started slaying body parts. I pulled out my unfavorable (for the time being) mini machete and sighed, flipping it around in my hand as everyone else's awesome weapons annihilated the flesh eating Walkers in front of me.

I stood back and looked at the slaughterhouse scene take place. Daryl was holding his own; characteristically slinging and readying bolt after bolt in a matter of seconds, making me look like a total noob compared to earlier. Thrash and Verlaine seemed to be working together; one distracted the beast before the other shot an unexpected bullet to its head. I stared down at my blade, disgruntled as I zoned out into the tattoo like design I carved on the handle.

"Ayden," Daryl said, shaking my shoulder, "Ayden?"

"What?" I drowsily answered, looking at three confused and worried faces stare into mine.

"We woulda appreciated some help back there," Thrash smiled, probably the most nice he's been to me.

"With this?" I squeaked, holding up the knife in front of his face.

"Woah, there," he said, putting his finger on the tip and gingerly pushing it down.

"Ooh, sorry," I apologized, placing it back into the thigh holster.

"We'll get ya a new Beretta," Daryl comforted, slinging his arm around my waist, "sorry you dropped your original."

"Speaking of guns," Verlaine mentioned, "How skilled are you with them?"

"Who, me?" I asked, pointing to my chest as we continued to walk down the alleyway.

"Yeah. I want to know my snipe is going to be put to good use."

"Four years in Military Efficacy Tactics and Rifle Operation. Metro. My specialty was sniping," I boasted, grinning hugely when Daryl proudly smiled back.

Thrash whistled impressively.

"Explain your philosophy," Verlaine begged melodramatically. "Enlighten me with your wisdom!"

I sighed heavily. "Patience, as you may know, is a virtue."

"Oh, come on," Thrash ragged, "That's like, the first hour of Scoping and Sniping 101. Spill the beans."

"Well..."


	8. Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying

"So, you can adjust the scope?" Verlaine awed as I rolled my eyes. Even Daryl sighed impatiently.

"Yes, for the 100th time, yes."

"Is there a safety on it?" Verlaine asked, unfortunately being honest.

"I dunno, what model is it?"

"Uh, M107," Verlaine said unsurely.

"Damn, girl! If you're right, you have more than eight million dollars on your hands. Well, now in mine," I beamed.

Verlaine groaned harshly. "So, does it?"

"No. It has a manual thumb lever, though. Works similar."

"Tell me," Daryl said, "Why do you have a M107 and don't know shit about it?"

Thrash shot a nearby Walker, accurately getting it in the forehead. "There was plenty layin' around when shit hit the fan."

We jogged the rest of the way to the front lawn of the building. It looked like an old retirement home; there was used to be living plants scattered around randomly and a ramp heading to the front door adjacent to stairs.

"Was this some sort of old folk's home or somethin'?" Daryl asked, nudging a wilting Vine Rose, making the brown leaves crumble and fall.

"Yeah, Palm Trees Retirement Center. Used to have a waiting list just to get in. Sounds kinda morbid, if you think about it." Thrash chuckled, peeking in one of the big lobby windows before creaking the door open.

"That's a little too creepy," I commented as we all, in single file, shuffled through the doorway and into the luxury living room. I went across the room, into a little cove with board games and puzzles all crowded around a small cafe table. It was cozy, but at the same time sad. These poor people never had a chance.

"Well, that sucks," I muttered to myself as I moved a piece of a puzzle that was half done. Daryl walked over to me and assuringly leaned against my shoulder.

"How ya doin?" he whispered. I lightly shrugged.

"I feel like I'm just along for the ride without my Beretta. Like when Amy wants to tag along with Andrea. At least she has a bat," I whispered back, kissing his shit caked forehead as I turned my head.

"Stop worrying," Daryl soothingly said, "we'll find you a better one."

"AK-47? Uzi?" I joked, sort of.

Daryl laughed. "I don't think we're that lucky."

"Hey guys," Thrash called, getting our full attention when he whistled and waved his hand. "Remember what we're here for."

"Always," I exhaled, following Thrash and Verlaine into their ascent down a homey decorated hallway.

The stairwell was all the way at the end of the hall. We would have to go past a dozen rooms before reaching it. And it was a closed circuit; once we got through those doors, we wouldn't be able to see anything.

"Anyone got a flashlight?" Thrash rhetorically asked, signaling us closer to make a plan. "So, what do ya say?"

"Split the work. You and Verlaine take one side of the hallway and Daryl and I take the other. Once we get down to the other side, we open the door and prop it open so there's at least a tiny bit of light," I said, already feeling questions seep out of my companions minds.

"But that's five floors up," Verlaine commented.

"Each floor we'll prop the main door open," Thrash answered, receiving nods from everyone, "be extra alert."

"What about shit to prop the doors open?" Daryl asked, rubbing his nose and cautiously looking around.

"Find something small and heavy for the next four floors. A chair will do for this one," I answered, clapping my hands quietly. "Okay. Let's get this over with."

Verlaine and Thrash split from the group and formed a single file line down the right side of the hall. Daryl and I followed the pattern and crept down the left side at the same pace.

A few bullets here, a few arrows there. Nothing I couldn't take care of myself. You know, if I had a gun.

We reached the stairwells door safely. Well, other than Verlaine noisily tripping over the chair we used to prop up the heavy steel door.

"Jeez, this must double as a tornado shelter," I grunted as we all pushed against the door.

"Damn, how did the old folks get through?" Daryl grunted along with all of us. We finally got it all the way open as Verlaine and Thrash scooted the faux leather arm chair against the door.

"It was automatic. Now it's not," Verlaine said, rolling her eyes as we melodramatically wiped the sweat off our brow.

Thrash and Daryl went first, scoping the small beams of light that only went halfway up the first staircase.

"Clear," Thrash whispered, motioning with his hands to move forward. Verlaine and I followed into the boys footsteps up the first staircase and very carefully climbed up the second.

"Ayden," Daryl whispered, pulling me closer, "you have the best night sight. Open the second floors door."

"I can't tell if you're throwing me under the bus or complementing me," I groaned quietly, reaching for the doorknob I was pretty sure no one else saw.

I carefully turned the knob and with all my might, I pushed the door open, beams of light soaring through the darkish stairway. Verlaine, Daryl, and Thrash all covered their eyes painfully as I quickly snatched Verlaine's silenced gun and clipped a few Walkers standing in the hallway. Swiftly, I hurled through the wide hallway and grabbed the first bookshelf. In a matter of ten seconds, I was back to the door with the small but surprisingly heavy white bookshelf.

"Here," I said, slapping the gun back into Verlaine's hands.

"The fuck?" Thrash said, eyeing me mysteriously.

"Damn, you are fucking fast!" Verlaine yelled in excitement, gasping as I again took the gun from her and in a split second whipped around and shot a close Walker. My shot was more accurate than it had ever been before.

"Gimme that back," Verlaine laughed and snatched it back, "you're making me feel incompetent."

"Now ya know how I feel on a daily basis," Daryl said.

"Oh, whatever," I scoffed, following Thrash to another set of stairs. We jogged quickly up the next two, getting the third floors door without any trouble.

"You said this place was overrun," Daryl commented as he heaved the door open, an arrow ready to shoot at the nearest Walker.

"These doors were propped open before too," Verlaine said, peeking around the slit of light, "I got out just in time. They must've seen there was nothing here and moved out."

"More intelligent than we ever thought," Thrash exhaled unbelievingly, looking at me weird when I shook my head.

"I suppose you've never seen a whole group of them moving together, right?" I asked, repetitively going in front of the group and popping a few caps in the Walkers out in the hall without even leaving the stairwell.

"Like, a swarm of 'em? No way," Thrash announced loudly, getting shut up glares from Verlaine.

"Small coffee table, in the room to the left," I pointed out, giving Verlaine her gun back and peeking around the corner.

I quietly sneaked in the vacant room, bee lining to the ugly retro blue table closest to the front door. As I was yanking it from its place, I heard a click of a trigger and sick gurgles come from beside me.

"Thanks, babe," I said lovingly without turning my head. The arrow in its forehead was evidence enough.

"Need help?" he asked roughly, sounding like his vocals just went through a cheese grater.

"Nah, I got it," I said and looked back at him, "what happened to your voice?"

"Nothing, why?" he asked, his voice sounding normal again. Well, if sandpaper going against cat claws can be considered sounding normal.

"Offering to help someone a little too much for you?" I teased, sliding the table out the door and into the hallway.

"Nothing, it's stupid," he rubbed off, moving out of my way as I put the table beside the door.

"Don't even start the 'I quake in my boots because you were in danger' shit. Between you, Thrash, and Verlaine, combined with my kick ass skills, no one is in danger."

Just as Daryl laughed nervously and shook his head, Verlaine squeaked and Thrash made some sort of grunting noise.

"Look out!" she yelled, not long before Daryl got tackled to the ground.

Verlaine was freaking out, Thrash was fumbling with his gun, and I had no freaking gun. Coincidentally as my boyfriend was getting attacked by a Walker. Man, my life sucked.

Luckily enough, I had training. I knew what to do in high stress, quick to the moment situations.

Unfortunately, no one else did.

As I rushed to the Walker and uppercut it in the face with my combat boot, Thrash took a shot. I cursed in anger as the bullet grazed my calf and hit the Walker in the stomach.

"You fucking idiot!" I yelled at Thrash, helping Daryl up and quickly removing my boot. I rolled up the leg of material that tightly rung my right leg. The bullet ripped through a piece of skin the size of pencil, also ripping a chunk out of my favorite jeans. I was probably the most angry about the pants.

"I- I didn't know!" Thrash yelled, panic rough in his words.

"Are you okay? God, I should've done something." Verlaine sighed, putting her hand to her forehead.

"I'm fine, but look at my pants! And for Pete sakes, you could've shot Daryl with those goddamn aiming skills. Or, lack thereof," I snapped, walking over to the injured Walker and stomping on it's face violently. In an instant, it stopped squirming.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Daryl asked calmly, relaxing unwillingly when I checked thoroughly for bite marks.

"I'm dandy," I sighed, calming down even though the sting of my wound annoyed me more than it hurt.

After checking Daryl out, I ran into the kitchen of the nearest room and grabbed a small towel, unrolling my pant leg before tying it around my gash.

"We have a first aid kit up in the room," Verlaine shook, grabbing onto my shoulder once I came out as if she was about to hurl. "Man, that was a close call."

"We're all fine. Lets move," I said, grunting as every step contracted my right leg and stretched out my scratch.

We routinely made our way up to the fourth floor and eventually made it to the fifth. Other than the few pleading apologies from Thrash and hurling noises coming from Verlaine, conversations were minimal.

"It's the last room to the right," Verlaine said, acting more injured than I was.

"How'd you attract the dead, anyway?" I asked, helping her down the hallway. I took the gun from her, just in case. So far, that whole floor was undead free.

"Well, the only thing I was aiming for was animals and Walkers in the forest so I could shoot them without bustling much commotion down on the street. But nothing was in the forest, I was bored out of my mind. So, I readjusted and shot one on the street," Verlaine explained, rolling her eyes at Thrash as he did the same to her. "What, don't act like you've never shot one for the hell of it."

"Yeah, but I was being careful about it. I made sure I wouldn't get tracked down."

"Let's just get the gun and get the fuck out," I said, carefully stepping over the mess of furniture in the hallway.

"Don't look, Verlaine," Daryl commented as we came closer to the room. I spotted what he was talking about: in the room across from their hideout. The room was filled with mutilated bodies. Not Walkers, probably something the military set up. They were piled on top of each other everywhere, and most of them wore doctors uniforms or lab coats. Odd.

"That door was closed before," Verlaine cried out, finally letting her stomach win as she bent over and hurled the contents of whatever little she ate before. The stench reaked, I almost bent over right by Verlaine. Instead, I held my breakfast in and patted her back, looking at Daryl for an explanation. He shook his head.

"You guys start heading out. Take Verlaine out of here, I'll get the rifle," Daryl offered. I lifted y hand off of Verlaine and placed the back of my hand on my nostrils and nodded my head, holding in a dry heave.

"Let's go," I softly spoke and lightly tugged on Verlaine's shoulders, grabbing her by the waist when she stood. She swayed slightly, but kept her ground.

The sun was setting once we got outside. It was welcoming sight compared to inside of there. Verlaine and clenched her thick, wool lined hoodie as we watched the sun creep slowly behind the buildings.

"You doin' okay?" Thrash asked, rubbing her back as I took a step away to give them some privacy.

"Better," she sighed heavily, nodding her head as Thrash got closer to her ear. I couldn't make out what he said, but it seemed to make her feel better. I suppressed an awwwww just as Daryl dashed out of the main doors with the- or, my sniper rifle.

"I believe this is yours," he said gleefully, laughing as my eyes widened to the size of plates as I carefully let him set it in my hands.

"Hell yeah!" I called, checking it out as Verlaine got closer and smiled along with me.

"It's yours to keep," Verlaine said sorrowfully, sighing as I probed the thing like an alien.

"For reals?" I jokingly asked. I readied the rifle and aimed it at a nearby tree, adjusting the scope as needed. The scope was accurate enough, definitely not top notch but it would have to do.

"So," Thrash said excitedly, "what's the verdict?"

"Well," I said, inspecting it further to be extra sure, "this is not a M107. I can see why you thought so, they look pretty similar."

"What is it then?" Verlaine asked impatiently.

"A Berrett M95, right?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows when I shook my head.

"Close, it's an 82. In my opinion, better than an 84," I gawked, "this ones a bit heavier and bigger. Sadly, this is not a 8 million gun you got here. It's actually around 8 grand. Still, in excellent quality."

Daryl laughed. "I'm now convinced that and this crossbow ain't a fair trade."

"Oh, now," I commented, "it's all how you use it."

I beamed a smile at everyone and rested the rifle on my shoulder before walking off.

"So, where are you guys headed?" Daryl asked Verlaine and Thrash as they all followed me. Oh, how it feels to be the leader of a group.

"Well, right now we're getting Jimmy, right?" Verlaine asked. I turned around and nodded.

"Okay, so where are you staying tonight?"

"We were hoping... maybe you'd let us stay with your camp for tonight?"

"I'm pretty sure we can arrange that," I said confidently, "Merle don't take too nice of new people but we can make it work."

"Jimmy, bro," Thrash said as we got to the clearing. He shook his shoulder roughly, making the sleeping wierdo jump.

"What, am I bit? Did someone die?" Jimmy yelled, spazzing out and patting himself down.

Thrash laughed. "Everyone's fi-"

"I got shot," I rectified furiously, cringing as I realized Daryl forgot the first aid kit.

Jimmy looked down at my leg and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and psuedo yawning.

"What, my pain doesn't matter?"

"Okay, before hell brakes loose," Daryl said, waving his arms, "let's get moving before it gets darker."

I sighed and crossed my arms, mirroring Thrash. We glared each other down before Jimmy coughed.

"Where we goin'?" Jimmy asked, sounding drowsy. He rubbed his eyes thoroughly before standing up.

"To camp," I enthusiastically said, turning my head to Jimmy, "oh, how Merle will looove you."

"Merle? Who's Merle?" Jimmy asked. Daryl and I laughed.

"That would be my brother," Daryl said.

"Someone you do not want to cross paths with," I added truthfully. Jimmy groaned.

We got to the dirt path that headed straight towards the camp. From where we stood, it was only a half a mile away.

"Tell me more about these people," Verlaine curiously asked. She regained her balance, no longer needing my shoulder.

"Uh, there's Shane. He's... also not one to mess with," I said, thinking about the time in the forest. It seemed every time I thought of Shane, the night in the forest haunted my mind.

"Amy and Andrea. Inseparable sisters," Daryl added.

"What about the Asian boy?" Jimmy asked, getting excited as the camp came into view.

"Oh, Glenn? He's our going to town guy."

Before we got bombarded with more questions, Lori stormed up to us, not even giving the new kids a tiny glance.

"Where is everything? Aren't you supposed to be carrying, like, a big, red sack filled with-" Lori snapped at us, pausing to look at Verlaine and the gang.

"Uh, this is Verlaine, Jimmy, and Thrash," I introduced innocently. Lori eyed me suspiciously. "Aaand I got a new gun."

"Yo," Thrash said and smiled. Lori politely smiled back.

"Hey Rick!" she yelled, still eyeing them as she turned her head towards the camp.

"Yeah," he obediently called, running toward the entrance to the dirt path, where we stood.

"We got some stowaways," Lori said, seeming to be in one of her 'moods'. Ugh.

"Oh hey," Rick said, more enthusiastic than usual, "you guys hungry?"

"Well, sure!" Jimmy giggled, making Rick chuckle and look at me and Daryl unsurely.

We all followed Rick to the camp, some more excited than others. Mainly, Daryl and I were the unexcited ones. Go figure.

Everyone stared at us once we got to the hear of the camp, where the fire pit is and where we gathered around at the end of the day to eat dinner.

"This is, uh... Andrea and Amy. The sisters," I said, pointing to them with a curtsy of my head. Andrea gave a cautious glance, which would probably be much more hostile if I wasn't there. Amy sweetly waved, grinning as Verlaine waved back.

"This is Morales and his family."

Morales' kids hid behind him and his wife, but other than that, a friendly tone radiated from their acknowledging nods.

"This is Carol, Ed, and Sophia Pelletier."

Ed, as expected, sneered at the newcomers. The exact opposite of Ed, his wife Carol, smiled politely. Sophia nodded unsurely and snuggled closer into her mothers arms.

"Ah, here comes Merle," Daryl muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as Merle Dixon rounded a corner.

"What's up, Merle?" I said, beaming a very cheesy, toothy, and above all fake smile towards his direction.

"Who's this?" he asked, practically circling around Thrash. He sneered and looked at Jimmy for guidance. Jimmy put up his hands inferiorly.

"Uh, that's Verlaine, Thrash, and Jimmy."

"I would try to make you piss yourself right now," Merle said tiredly, talking directly to Jimmy, "but I'm about to drop my ass into hibernation."

As Merle walked away and into a tent, oh... MY tent (insert annoyed roll of the eyes here; put decontamination of my air mattress on the to-do list, right after become an errand boy for Carol), Daryl chuckled and walked to Jimmy.

"Told ya."


	9. Hang Em' High

Verlaine, Thrash, and Jimmy didn't stay too long after that. Mostly, because Thrash seems to be the small groups leader, couldn't stand Shane's death glares anymore and Verlaine seemed to become anxious towards everyone else. Before they left, though, Verlaine came up to me, having a serious aura about her.

"You don't plan to stay with these guys, do ya?" she said, crawling into my tent and plopping herself down onto the air mattress next to me. I set the novel I was reading down and looked at her soberly.

"I don't know. We literally met them yesterday," I said as she sighed and pushed the purple hair out of her eyes. "Why, do you have something planned?"

"Sort of," she muttered, looking down at her crossed legs and toying with her combat boot's shoelace.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, turning to face her. Verlaine exhaled slowly and patted my knees.

"We're leaving tonight," she said.

I shook my head. "I knew you were gonna leave pretty soon."

She paused to regain her thoughts. "I want to make a pact with you, of sorts."

I chuckled lightly and looked out of the open tent entrance, to Daryl and Merle chatting angrily about what Rick said earlier.

"What kind of pact?" I asked interestedly, furrowing my eyebrows as she once again huffed a breath of self-annoyance. "You can say it."

"Don't tell Daryl," she whispered, coming close to my ear and looking at him, "but we should make some sort of rendezvous."

My upper lip curled in confusion just as she picked it up.

"In a year, if we're both still alive, we meet up in that one gift shop in Atlanta."

Before I could ask why in the world she wanted to do this, Daryl started walking this way. He was obviously in one of his moods. He was talking to himself angrily, trying to contemplate something. It didn't seem to be good news.

"Verlaine," he greeted, as calmly as he could. We both stared at him with curiosity as his eyes changed from Daryl-like infuriation to a more calm state of mind. It was only around Verlaine and I that his impatience quickly turned into content.

Verlaine quickly scooted out of the tent as Daryl entered, giving her a look of perplexity as she passed by.

"What was that all about?" he asked as he sat next to me, right where Verlaine sat. I shrugged my shoulders.

"They're leaving tonight," I said. He grunted and nodded his head.

"I suppose it had to happen, if not tonight, then tomorrow morning."

I nodded along with him and took his hand as a flash of sorrow seemed to cross his mind. He definitely wasn't acting like himself today.

"Okay, so I have to ask," I said worriedly, stroking his hand with my thumb like I always did. He took notice of it and smiled. "Why are you acting… not yourself?"

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked me in the eyes. "I'm not, why?"

I thought that maybe this kind of world was finally getting under his skin. _Probably not, _I told myself, smiling at Daryl when he smiled sweetly at me, _this is Daryl we're talking about here_

But, of course, even the best fall sooner or later.

"Uh, Shane wanted to talk to you," Daryl said, clearing his throat uncomfortably and nodding toward the direction of his tent. I held back a whine.

"Can't it wait until morning?" I asked as though he knew the answer. Daryl laughed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I don't think he'd like that very much."

I made an 'ehh' sound and stood up, stretching my sore muscles, being newly aware of the gash on my leg from earlier. I subconsciously bent down and rubbed it; the kitchen towel was soaked with blood.

Gross. At least it camouflaged with my jeans.

An awkward silence hung over me as I neared Shane's tent.

I did not want to talk to him, especially when exhausted.

I politely knocked on the metal poles that kept the fabric of the tent up, smiling warmheartedly when he glanced up at me. Lori and Carl were both sleeping.

"Hi," he whispered through the mesh windows, quietly unzipping the tent and stepping out of the tent. He stood there as I waited for what he wanted.

"What's up?" I said, the slightest bit of impatience making my voice sound a bit whiny.

He walked over to where his Jeep sat stationary and pulled out a handheld Desert Eagle. It wasn't a Beretta, but I was still overjoyed when he placed it into my hands.

"A few people are going to town tomorrow morning," he explained, hanging onto his belt buckle with his thumbs, "view it as a chance to earn your stripes."

I stifled in a giggle as I traced the safety switch. "Is Daryl going, too?"

He shook his head. "No, Merle will be, though. I assume he needs to be occupied with something so he doesn't kill anybody, right?"

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled as Shane started heading back towards his tent. He just about unzipped it when he took notice of my leg.

"What happened?" he asked, the meager panic in his voice making it seem that he was suspicious of my wrapped leg.

"I got shot," I said bluntly, careful not to show defense in my voice. Does he think I'm stupid? Does he really think I'd get bit and not tell anyone about it? "Well, actually, a bullet grazed my leg."

His shoulders became less tense. "Have you put anything on it yet?"

"A towel," I smirked, extending the leg and looking down at it. "I haven't even cleaned it yet."

Shane looked around for any spare buckets of water lying around, and when one wasn't found, he took me by the arm and directed me toward his Jeep.

"There's a lake nearby," he said as he opened the passenger door and pulled out a first aid kit from under the seat, "put something on it while I go get some water."

Shane didn't wait for an answer, slamming the door shut and jogging around to the other side. He drove away before I could tell him there were no alcohol pads in the kit.

As I waited, I sat in one of the lawn chairs, extending my wounded leg out on another chair's armrest and unwrapping the crispy kitchen towel off my calf. I cringed as the cloth stuck to the dried blood on the cut.

Instead of rewrapping the cut with some gauze and tape from the kit, I waited until Shane came back with water. As I waited, I listened intently around me to tell if anyone was awake. The only noise that could be heard was the warm summer breeze crinkling the tree's leaves and the infrequent howl of an animal. I started getting restless when Shane finally pulled up.

"What took you so long?" I whined, chuckling slightly when he took me seriously. He turned off the engine and got out of the car, grabbing the full bucket of water before sitting on the chair that I propped my leg on.

"I was only gone five minutes," he muttered, lifting an eyebrow as he inspected the hole in my jeans, carefully tracing the outer edges of the two inch long gash. "Well, it's healing well."

"That's good to hear," I drowsily said, relaxing back in my chair as he took my leg off the armrest and set it across his lap. I felt his fingers trail higher than the gash that was just below the back of the knee, and I opened one eye and lifted my head. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if any bullet shards came off and stuck in the upper part of your leg," he said, barely moving his lips when he spoke. A smile broke out across my face.

"You're a bad liar," I accused, and when he smiled and didn't say anything back, I let my neck rest once again. Since my eyes were closed and resting like the rest of my body, only my ears and the sense of touch could tell me what was happening.

I heard him reach in the bucket with a towel, one that I hoped wasn't the same towel that I wrapped my leg with, and ring the towel out. He blotted my wound and the surrounding area before a click echoed in my ears, then something similar to sawing sounds followed.

"Is it really that bad, you're sawing my leg off?" I joked, opening my eyes and lifting my head to see what he was up to. Already, half of my pants were cut off. "Shane, these are my favorite jeans!"

He stifled a laugh. "Your only pair of jeans, I assume?"

I crossed my arms and furrowed my eyebrows. "I still could have taken them off!"

Shane's eyebrows rose curiously, which made me angrier.

"I could have changed into boxers!" I yelled, frustrated, not being able to help a slight smile escape when his eyebrows fell. He knew where I would be getting a pair of boxers from.

Instead of replying back with some snarky comment about Daryl, Shane bandaged me up and patted my leg. I set them down on the ground and disappointedly watched him as he got up from the chair and made his way back to the tent.

"Thanks!" I called, standing up and watching hopefully as he turned around.

"If you ever get tired of Daryl's boxers, you know where to find me," he said, almost seriously, and climbed into his tent. I stood there awkwardly and waited until he zipped the entrance back up before scoffing and returning to my tent, almost as disappointed as I was excited.

Wait, did Shane just offer… ah, never mind.


	10. Image of the Invisible

If 'earning my stripes' includes me almost killing the new guy, letting Merle get left behind, and being on Merle's side when he voted himself team captain, then I must be a fucking zebra by now.

Daryl was going to stomp my ass when he comes back.

So I hid in the Winnebago until I heard, "Rick Grimes? You got somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all," Rick said, calm as hell. Maybe he really was a police guy. "So, I handcuffed him to a roof."

"Let me process this," Daryl started, walking away from the new guy, Rick, or as Morales called him, helicopter boy, in a rush. I stepped out of the Winnebago to see an angry scene in front of me. "You handcuffed my brother to a roof... And you left 'em there!"

"Daryl," I called, only getting pleaded glances, "we'll go get him."

"Get him? You knew about this?" Daryl asked, and I shut my mouth before I said the wrong thing.

"Yeah, she went with us," Andrea added, confused that he didn't know. Daryl liked to keep track of where I went with what people, and I thought it was more of an endearing act than how Ed kept track of Carol. Daryl and I were basically attached to the hip, anyway.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Daryl asked softly, obviously hurt. Instead of replying back with words, I cautiously came up beside him and put my forehead on his arm.

"I thought you left before we did," I replied, closing my eyelids to keep the loose tears inside.

"I went to go get you, but you was gone!" he yelled fiercely, most of the anger directed to Rick.

"Daryl, don't," I quietly said as he lifted up the string of squirrels and threw them at Rick. He attempted to go after him but was quickly stopped by Shane.

"Chokehold's illegal," Daryl coughed after Shane tightly put him in one.

"I want to have a calm discussion about this," Rick calmly said, "d'ya think we can do that?"

Daryl looked to me for assistance, and I shook my head, tears readily streaming down my face. Usually, I didn't cry like that. It made me think about how Carol cried every hour. Lately, though, I was tear city.

Shane let Daryl go and like an obedient friend/girlfriend/whatever the hell we were, I ran toward him and helped him up.

"Merle's still chained to the roof," T-Dog explained, "I chained the door so no Walkers could get through."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Daryl growled, attempting to wipe away the fact that he was getting worked up. He was close to tears, which usually was my job if I was mad. "'Cuz it don't."

"That should count as something," Lori softly amended, throwing Rick the nastiest looks I've ever seen her give.

"Dad, please don't go," Carl begged for the second time. Rick got down on his knees and rested his hands on Carl's shoulders.

"I made a promise. I have to do this," Rick seriously said, patting Carl on the back before hugging him tightly.

Carl started crying, which made me feel even worse.

"Rick, you don't have to go. Me and Daryl can-"

"No, I have to go."

"So do I," T-Dog said, setting the logs of wood that he was carrying on the ground. Daryl gave him a look that registered beyond hate.

Daryl huffed angrily, still making circles in the dirt. "Well let's go, then!"

Everybody stood around until Rick moved, walking toward the van until Shane stood in his way. I noticed he had a habit of doing that.

"I say what we need here is more people," Shane whispered, wiping the corners of his mouth and looking at Rick ferociously.

"Those guns are what we need," Rick replied just as serious, "I dropped a bag of guns on the way into the city. They're close enough."

"What if close isn't enough, Rick?"

"Nothing is going to happen."

Heavy silence.

I felt bad eavesdropping, yet I still did, until Daryl pulled me away. He pulled me close and at first I thought he was leaning in for a kiss, but he went higher, to my ear.

"Why did you let him do that?" he growled, his warm breath tickling my ear. I inwardly flinched; at first I didn't know what to say. But I had an alibi.

"I wasn't even on the roof, I stayed below with Andrea!" I whispered back, leaning back to look in his eyes. They read hurt and violence.

"You coulda done something." He was holding back tears again.

"I didn't even know Merle wasn't with us until we were in the van heading back. Until it was too late," I growled through my teeth, the look of Daryl's watery eyes making mine react the same.

Daryl ruffled his hair and turned around to see the progress of filling the van. Rick was just about to honk the horn.

"I don't want to go if you're gonna be mad at me the whole time," I yelled at Daryl who was walking towards the van. Everything seemed to take on a monotonous display when Daryl and I fought. It didn't seem natural; although a bicker once and a while was natural in a relationship. It hurt me more than he could ever know.

Daryl stopped in his tracks, pausing for a few seconds before swiveling around to face me.

"I'm not mad!" he yelled back, sounding pretty mad for not being mad. I raised my hands and let them fall to my sides again.

"You sound pretty mad," I laughed, crossing my arms as he shook his head and strode to my side. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, nuzzling into my neck and sighing. Rick honked the horn.

"I'm not mad," he forcefully said, lying, of course.

"Oh yeah," I chuckled, "you sound so sure of it."

Daryl removed his forehead from my neck and placed it on my forehead.

"Come on, lovebirds!" T-Dog called, sticking his head out of the passenger side window. Glenn still stood by the Red Challenger with his arms crossed. Jim and Dale already tore it to pieces for the Winnebago.

"So… not fair," he whined, turning around to face me giggling.

"Oh, Glenn," Rick called, sticking his head out of the passenger's window, "you have to come. You're the only one who knows the city."

"Sweet," he mourned, "better than staring at my stripped car."

I slipped away from Daryl's grasp and moved my hand lower, grasping his hand before dragging him to the van.

"I thought you said you wouldn't come," he said, walking up to my side and swinging my arm.

"I thought you said you were mad," I retorted, smiling up at him as he shrugged his shoulders.

We both got into the back of the van, sitting exactly in back of the passenger seat and directly across from T-Dog. Daryl still had that fire in his eyes, but it was tamer when I reached around for his other hand and laced it between mine.

"We walk from here," Glenn said, stopping the van on the right side of the train tracks. We all climbed out of the van and started walking towards the building that Merle was in. Or, we hoped was still in.

"So, guns first, Merle later?" Rick asked Glenn. He shook his head.

"We don't want to double back. Merle first," Glenn replied, looking back at Daryl. He didn't show any signs of glee.

The rest of the walk was silent.


	11. The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You

"Merle!" Daryl yelled in despair. The only thing left of Merle when we got up to the rooftop was his hand. "Merle!"

He was crying now, and so was I. Merle was like a brother to me, even though that would awkwardly make Daryl my brother too. I loved him like family.

"Maybe he's somewhere in the building," I offered, sniffling my nose and cautiously making my way towards him. He inched away.

As I looked back at Glenn, T-Dog, and Rick, who all stood there with frowns spewed across their face, Daryl gathered up his crossbow and stalked away to another door that sat across from the door we entered in. He slammed it open, scoping out the insides before heading in without us.

We all followed after he was no longer in sight, going in much more quietly than Daryl's huffs, grunts, and sniffles. He started slamming things around, and before Rick could yell at him to calm down, we all discovered a bloody towel and a turned on gas stove.

"Cauterized," Daryl grunted, moving the towel with his foot. "Told you my brother was a survivor."

"He's still lost a lot of blood," Rick commented, motioning to the piles of crimson blood that pooled in the cracks of the linoleum.

"He's alive," Daryl still muttered, walking to a broken window. Merle must've escaped from there.

In Daryl-like fashion, I strode to another door and peeked out of the glass window in it. It seemed like where we stood was the break room of some sort of office.

"Meet you by the van in an hour," I muttered, looking back at Rick as he nodded reluctantly.

I opened the door to the cubicles carefully, looking around the room like Daryl did before stepping inside, closing the door behind me.

There had to be at least twenty cubicles in a boxed in fashion, all with abandoned family pictures and personal trinkets spewed everywhere. Papers were scattered everywhere, most of them with some sort of legal matter printed on them with official back ink. It reminded me that there was absolutely no warning when the outbreak spread. No one had a chance.

A rustle of breeze came from the east end of the room, next to another bigger room that only held one person's office supplies. I assumed it was a draft, coming up from the emergency escape stairs. They usually had some sort of direct connection with outside.

"Hello?" I called out, just in case it was Rick or somebody coming up the stairs. There was footsteps, but no reply.

There were no groans or moans like the sounds that Walkers would make, but the footsteps became more and more pronounced.

"Daryl, is that you?"

The footsteps became louder.

"I swear, if you're trying to scare me, I'll kill you."

The last footstep before they ceased echoed through the empty cubicles, making my heart beat a few more times per minute. It wasn't until I heard the doorknob turn that I got out the Desert Eagle that Shane gave me.

Speaking of Shane…

The door opened quietly as I rounded the edge of the cluster of cubicles, pointing my gun right between the crack.

"Don't shoot me," Shane whispered, popping his head out of the crack. I almost screamed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I shrieked, putting the gun back in my waistband. He opened the door all the way and waltzed through, going straight for my waist. He hugged me like we haven't seen each other for ages.

"I couldn't stand you being in danger," he sighed. I scoffed and pushed him away.

"I don't need your help, thanks."

Shane pouted, coming closer as I walked away. He caught up with me and pushed me against one of the cubicle's desks.

"Are you on crack?" I yelled, pushing myself farther into the desk when he trailed his palms up my back. "What about Lori?"

I didn't resist him any longer; I didn't have the willpower to do so. His needy hands were commanding in a way I've never felt before.

"Forget Lori," Shane said softly. He grabbed my waist from behind, swaying me slightly as he set his chin on my shoulder.

"I thought you guys had something going on," I thought out loud, and then I remembered Rick Grimes' sudden appearance. I quickly got angry. "What, your piece of ass got reclaimed so your scoping out a new one?"

"That is so not true," he said quickly, "if it was, Andrea would be the one I'd go to."

"What, I'm not prettier than Andrea?" I asked seriously but was laughing my ass off inside. I quickly swiveled around to face him.

"No, I didn't say that," he claimed.

"Are you now? Well?" I snickered, watching Shane's mouth open and close quickly, narrowing his eyes at me after. I put my index finger over his mouth.

"Shut up before you dig yourself a bigger hole," I purred, removing my finger and kissing him lightly. I completely forgot about Daryl whenever I was around Shane, which was not good. At all.

Shane traced the curve of my hips with both of his first fingers, as he stared into my eyes. He had a much more powerful gaze than Daryl did; it locked me in place, I was absolutely mesmerized.

He grabbed my hips tighter than before, leaning in for the hungriest kiss yet. Along with the gaze, Shane was better at kissing than Daryl, although I felt love through his and lust through Shane's. That's all this was, though. Lust. At least I hoped that's what Shane felt.

Shane's hands went lower, grabbing my ass and lifting me up, setting me on one of the desks as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

"Where is Daryl? Rick and the others?" I asked before we went any further. I especially worried about Daryl being up, the light sleeper he is.

"Don't, worry double checked the locks," he whispered, coming closer to the counter so nothing on my body didn't touch his. And I mean everything was pushed up against him. He peeked down, at the top of my bra. My breasts pushed up against his chest, making them lift slightly. For obvious reasons, he enjoyed it.

It didn't feel wrong to be with Shane like this.

He unzipped my pants while kissing me heavily. His tongue slipped in and out of my mouth, which I wasn't often fond of. This time, though, I welcomed it.

Footsteps kept me from unzipping his. We both froze in place, looking toward the hallway that led to the front.

"It's nothing," Shane quickly said, moving down to my neck and kissing its side. A secret of mine: I love my neck being kissed. Love.

"I hope for the sake of you that you're right," I said, cautiously returning my attention to Shane's pants zipper. After I unzipped it, he once again grabbed me tightly, making my arms jerk forward to hold onto his neck. He lifted me up and carted me to what seemed like the bosses office, which shouldn't have been more than 10 feet from the first cubicle. Shane dropped me on the expensive foam couch, bringing a little excited squeal out of my mouth.

"Are you sure about this, Shane?" I nervously asked him as he lightly crouched down on top of me.

Without answering me, he lifted up my shirt slightly and licked in a line from my belly button up to the underwire of my bra. Tingles formed where the warm wetness remained.

Shane suddenly stood up, practically tearing his shirt over his head. My heart got caught in my throat when my eyes traced over his stunning stomach muscles. I reached out to trace them with my hands, not long before he helped me prop up to a sitting position. In turn, he laid down on the oversized couch just to the side of me.

"Come here," he said fiercely in his sexy commanding tone he seemed to use a lot. This was a different situation, though. Obviously.

I growled playfully and extended my torso to rake my fingernails against his chest. He shivered in anticipation as I straddled his waist and became very close to his face. It was a maneuver I used a lot on Daryl.

"What changed your mind?" Shane asked sensually as I planted kisses across his collarbone.

"About what?" I asked, leaving a trail across his neck to his jawbone.

"This," he answered, gripping my hair tightly and kissing me on the lips.

"I guess you're just too irresistible," I finally replied after he slid away from my face.

He slipped my thin tank top off and grabbed the straps of my bra, sliding them down in a rush.

"Admit it," he whispered, sliding his fingertips down my back to the edge of my pants, "you wanted me from day one."

"Actually," I answered, "you're right for the first time."

His smile grew when he reached my pants waistband, tugging at it as a signal to help him take them off. I bit my lower lip and grabbed his hands, helping lower my favorite pants to my ankles. I kicked them off and scooted lower, so my mouth was adjacent to his pants zipper. I tugged on it with my teeth before letting my hands help, slowly sliding down his pants.

"Wait," Shane whispered quickly, putting his hand on my head. I stopped and listened for what he was hearing for. Footsteps. Little pitter patters down a hardwood floor becoming loud ones on linoleum floor. Whoever it was, they were in the break room.

That's when I heard an all too familiar groan of pain, something not quite dead but definitely not human.

Walker.

Shane realized too, and quicker than I could get off the couch, he pulled me up beside him and covered my mouth.

"Daryl," I mutedly yelled, scratching at his hand and wriggling my bare legs.

"Shh," he whispered, putting his chin on my head. If he was trying to comfort me, it sooo wasn't fucking working.

The Walker droned on, knocking things over in the break room before heading to the office cubicles. Heading our way.


	12. Keeping Up with the Kids

The Walker heard me attempt to struggle out of Shane's grip, making more sickening sounds and tuning to face our way. Shane noticed that it was onto us and in one very careful motion, he slipped his hand down the side of my leg and grabbed the holstered gun from the couch.

A ruffled grunt came from the same door that Shane entered in, following a familiar clink of plastic going against metal. I held in my breath in anticipation, then in fear.

"That's one ugly skank," Daryl said to himself, shooting the Walker in the forehead. He chuckled at the victory of his kill and walked to it; the sickening slurping noises of his bow being pulled out of fresh blood rang through the office.

"Wait here," Shane whispered, uncovering my mouth slowly to test if I'd scream. I reluctantly nodded my head as he slipped out from underneath me and retrieved my pants from the floor. He flung them at me as he made his way toward Daryl.

I propped myself up on my elbows before putting my pants on, peeking over the top of the couch at Shane. He looked like he was trying to sneak up on Daryl.

_If you scare him you're dead,_ I thought, attempting to push my thoughts to Shane.

"Daryl," Shane cautiously spoke, letting the hand that carried the gun drop to his side, rendering himself not a threat. Daryl's head whipped around, scaring me half to death as I let my elbows fall. I definitely could** not** let him see me.

"What're you doing here?" Daryl asked, his slurred words making himself sound tired and bored.

"I, uh," Shane stuttered, trying to scrape up an excuse, "I heard there was some trouble."

"From who?" Daryl suspiciously asked, his voice becoming more pronounced as well as louder. He was closer than he was before.

I slipped my pants on as the boys kept talking, the effort I was exerting on attempting to be quiet overpowered my wanting to listen into their conversation.

"You haven't seen Ayden, have ya?" Daryl asked. I bit my lip until I could taste the sweet bitterness of blood.

An abrupt silence froze me in place; no doubt Daryl had heard something coming from this room.

"There a Walker in there?" Daryl asked, walking towards the room. My heart froze as still as my body was.

"No," Shane said, too casually. Like he didn't care if I was caught.

_Think,_ I commanded to myself, _think!_

There was a separate door at the right side of the room, close to the fancy cherry wood desk, possibly connected to a private bathroom or storage closet. If I were to cross the room to get to this door, I would have to cross Daryl's eyesight, thus rendering the whole operation useless. Maybe I could pretend to be asleep on the couch? No, much too suspicious, especially with Shane nearby. I kinda already had a hunch that Daryl knew what was going on between us.

"Walker!" Shane shouted suddenly, making Daryl turn just as he entered the little office.

"You have a gun," he said, and taking the time that he was distracted as an opportunity, I made a run for it. "You can shoot, can't ya?"

"Gunshots are too loud," he replied, stepping back so Daryl could take care of it. He turned around as I reached the open door.

The last thing I saw before very quietly shutting the door was a victorious smile spread across Shane's face.

Okay, so I was half right about the room being some sort of storage space.

The only thing that I wasn't expecting about it is that it was the size of a _freaking_ library, filled with paper, staplers, paper clips, pencils. Even in the back, there had to be half a dozen copy and fax machines.

It seemed as if the entire building used the same room to store extra supplies.

There were several dozen industrial-type metal shelves that sat in the middle of the room, holing said office supplies, blocking my view of the rest of the area. Which was pretty dangerous if someone else had your primary weapon and you stupidly left your knife at camp.

I cautiously walked toward the back of the room, checking in between the shelves for any signs of Walkers. A creaky floorboard stopped me in my tracks; I started frantically looking around for something to use as a weapon. I wondered if I shoved a paperclip far enough into a Walker's temple, would he die. Well, better than nothing, I guess.

I swerved down one of the makeshift isles, dodging the cardboard boxes of paper that scattered the floor and picked up a black stapler from one of the middle shelves. At least it was better than my paperclip plan.

I flipped the upper half open, checking to make sure there were no staples loaded in it. Since there was, I flicked them off of the spring and flipped it back closed. Except that I forgot my thumb was right on it, and there still was one stray staple in the stupid thing.

I ended up putting a staple through my thumb, and even though it didn't hurt, it scared the shit out of me.

"Aw, fuck!" I yelled, pulling the staple out of my thumb. The staple was still in my mouth as it registered to me that I actually did yell out loud, alerting the Walker of my position. I spit it out and got the stapler ready, aiming it toward the closest edge of the aisle. And I waited.

The creaking of the floorboard ceased as the pair of feet stopped in the aisle next to this one. Just as I was about to charge out of the aisle and into the next, a taller figure bumped into me, making me knock into the shelf, almost knocking it over.

I screamed and shoved the end of the stapler into the forehead of my opponent, knocking his balance off, tumbling him into one of the paper boxes. Before I could register who I hit, he tumbled into the box, sprawling the papers everywhere.

"Did you just staple my forehead?" Glenn yelled, pushing on the staple in the middle of his forehead. I gasped and looked around to the other aisle; what used to be a Walker now laid limply on the ground. Shane, his face bloody, stood over it.

"I'm sorry, Glenn," I said, suppressing a giggle. He winced and pulled the staple out, letting it fall to the ground before he patted my shoulder.

"It's okay," he sighed, "I would've hit you in the face with my baseball bat if you didn't get me first."

Shane walked out of the room with us both, and before I could ask him what (or who) popped him in the face, Daryl walked beside us, angry.

"Looks like you got bit by some snake, chinaman," Daryl muttered, looking at Shane with anger and at me with partial disgust.

"Staple," Glenn said, narrowing his eyes at Daryl, "and I'm _Korean_."

"Yeah," Daryl muttered, leading us out of the Walker-empty building and towards the train tracks.

"Wait, what about Merle? Where's T-Dog?" I asked, struggling to keep up with they boys' stride. The chest bump from Glenn must've twisted my ankle.

"T-Dog's in the van," Daryl muttered, and when he didn't mention anything about Merle, I assumed he wasn't found. My spirits fell.

The rest of the walk back, just like the walk to the building, was eerily quiet. The most anyone had done (mainly between Daryl and Shane) was giving glances of distrust and hatred. It didn't make the air around us very soothing.

As we rounded the gate fencing off the train tracks, a fist came out of nowhere and punched the fence. I looked at where everyone was staring at in disbelief, and well, it was what they _weren't _staring at.

The van was gone.


	13. Louder Than Thunder

"We're not getting home by dark," I pointed out, tired and exhausted and upset. I couldn't believe T-Dog got kidnapped, leave alone by Merle. At least it meant that he was alive.

Daryl simply grunted and Shane huffed what seemed like an annoyed breath. Glenn was ten seconds from heaving out of exhaustion.

We stood in the middle of a road that lead to one of the suburbs of Atlanta, waiting for a decision to be made.

"We make camp?" Glenn asked enthusiastically, putting his hands on his knees as we stopped walking.

"We're almost there," Shane said from in between gritted teeth, looking pretty exhausted himself.

The sun was slowly making its way under the world, and with the time passing, it put us in more risk.

It reminded me of the one time I made a short trip to Bronx. From where I usually spent the night in the lobby of the apartment complex, it was only two miles away. But anyway, I had a few - ahem- _connections _down there that I was visiting. I was only supposed to allow myself a couple hours, careful not to stay until dark. But before I knew it, I was standing in their front yard at midnight, soaked in a liquid that I had hoped was water. Someone must've called the police, because once I heard sirens, my legs fled me away. The police never caught me, most likely because I've had more experience outrunning police than your usual everyday bank robber, and I went back to the apartments and crashed on the couch.

I think that I might've been drugged that night.

But you probably already assumed that.

So, anyway, I learned that you never get caught doing something terribly important in the dark. That, and don't go to strange parties in the ghetto.

"Ayden!" Daryl yelled, shaking me back into the present. I stared up at his frustrated face and waited until he took his hands off my shoulders to reply.

"What do you think we should do?" Shane yelled, apparently thinking I'd gone deaf. I shot him a look.

"How long do you think we have to go?" I asked slowly, wondering why he was looking at me for answers instead of himself.

"Quarter mile."

I sighed and raked my brain for an answer that seemed viable.

I looked at the tip of the sun, which just had disappeared down the hill, leaving streaks of orange and purple across the sky.

"We walk," I said, looking around at Glenn, Daryl, and Shane. Glenn sighed and rolled his eyes while Shane and Daryl stiffly nodded in tolerance.

"Why can't we just-" Glenn started complaining, then before he could finish his sentence, his concentration went into the distance.

There was a huddle of something big down the road, heading in a group like fashion right to us.

We all looked to where he was staring, and in disbelief, Daryl, Shane, and I glanced at each other.

"Is that a _group _of Walkers!" Glenn yelled.

"Shit," Daryl scoffed, readying his crossbow.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Glenn asked. "Aren't we going to run or something?"

"We can't risk them following us back to camp!" Shane yelled, getting his shotgun ready. In step with the boys, I swallowed hard and pointed to the herd of Walkers. My forehead started beading up with sweat as they came closer.

"There's too many of them," I muttered, "there's no way."

"Yes there is," Shane grunted, giving me a look that told me to shut my mouth.

"I only have nine arrows," Daryl added, clenching his teeth and looking at Shane. "One is about to go through your forehead for makin' us stay here!"

"We fight," Shane finalized, his tone telling us that this conversation was over.

They became closer and closer as my anxiety lever reached the treetops. I was not one to back out, but if it didn't mean I'd also be leaving Daryl behind, I would've made a run for it. Cowardly was not what me, well, usually.

They were now in shooting distance. There had to be at least thirty of them, and since Shane and I were the ones with the most capable (no offence, Daryl) weapons, our job was to basically protect Daryl and Glenn. It made me feel higher up on the hypothetical totem pole concerning who was most capable in the group. The fact that I was using Shane's gun instead of my own made my confidence level lower a few notches, though.

_It's how you use it that counts, _Raine, my M.E.T.R.O counselor's voice rang in my head.

I metaphorically told her to shut up.

"Walker's arrive in T-minus ten seconds!" Shane shouted over the ring of the Desert Eagle and his own shotgun. "Ten, nine, eight, seven-"

"Now is **not** the time to be cheesy, Shane!" I yelled. I was already running out of ammo and we didn't even have half of them to go.

"I say split up!" Daryl shouted, "It'll attract them in smaller numbers, easier to handle 'em!"

Shane and I nodded, stopping the flow of bullets long enough to back up a couple of yards. Daryl and Glenn ran back through where we came from.

"It's not working," Shane said, watching as only a few of the Walkers went in their direction.

"It still lessens the numbers," I said. It also made Daryl safer, but I didn't say that out loud.

Now we had at least fifteen walkers on our asses, without the help of Rick.

Wait a second…

"Where's Rick?" I asked Shane, fear coursing heavy through my veins. Did we leave him behind?

Shane's hands that held the shotgun faltered for a few seconds, the blood draining out of his face.

"D'ya think he took the van?" I asked.

"D'ya think he would leave us?" Shane mocked, the feared anger in his rhetorical question making me nervous.

"He got left behind!" I shrieked. I tried to run back to where Daryl and Glenn went, but Shane grabbed my bicep and pulled me back. Closer to his chest.

"You are not leaving me," he said sharply, staring directly into my eyes. "If you leave, I'm dead. Do you ever think about something else other than yourself?"

Of course, he was only saying these words to make me mad, to make me think.

"We're both dead if we stay here," I replied, attempting to tug out of his grip. Shane dropped his shotgun, grabbing my other bicep.

"If that's what our fate is, then so be it," he murmured. I stared into his eyes in disbelief.

"What?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion. What was he trying to say to me?

"If we're gonna die, I want you to know something."

"Shane," I said uneasily, glancing at the Walkers that were now at a very uncomfortable distance away. A shake from his hands sent me back to looking at him.

"I love you," Shane whispered, barely audible, but I knew what I heard. My eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"No! None of this 'last words' bullshit!" I yelled, tugging hard away from his grip. This time it was successful. But before I could raise my gun, Shane made something similar to a squealing sound.

"Look out!" he said before tumbling me to the ground. I was just about to cuss him out of this world until a huge explosion shook the ground and sent us about twelve meters in the opposite direction.

After we got done shooting down a steep hill adorned with plenty of sharp rocks and bushes with hundreds of thorns, plus being sent into a fairly shallow lake, we both crawled back to shore and laid down.

"C4, bitches!" I heard Daryl yell from the top of the hill, followed by a victorious whoop. Shane looked like he wanted to scream in frustration, but he was noticeably exhausted. We both were.

"Anything broken?" Shane grunted. I did a mental check over.

"Nope, think I'm good," I replied. "You?"

"My peace of mind may be a little cracked."

I smirked and arched my back, careful not to strain anything. Well, careful not to strain anything more than it already is.

My leg wound was open again, soaking the white gauze and turning it into a sickening crimson color.

"Maybe I should've gotten new jeans while we were there," I chuckled, wincing as I took a few thorns out of my left hand.

Shane snorted and lifted himself into a sitting position, wincing also as he put two fingers to a big gash on his right eyebrow.

"Ouch," I said in condolence, putting myself in the same position and crawling over to where Shane was. "You have a piece of glass in that cut."

"Are you kidding me?" he laughed, gritting his teeth as I carefully scraped out the piece of a broken beer bottle out of his head. The gesture made our faces very close.

I kind of wanted to kiss him right then.

"Yo guys," Daryl called from the top of the hill. We both scooted away from each other. "You down there?"

"Yeah," Shane was the first to speak, "this is the water source that's right by the camp. We'll follow it the rest of the way."

"Is Ayden okay?" he called back nervously.

"Yeah, I'm good," I yelled, smiling when I realized it was Daryl that blew up the Walkers. "Where did you get C4?"

"I have my ways," he slyly replied, walking away.

Shane sighed and looked at me. "So, you want to start heading back or do you want to wait until round two shows up?"

"Uh, I think we'll go," I said, not one hundred percent sure if he was joking or not.

We cringed as we both helped each other up, limping as we followed the stream of water back to camp. Once we both regained our own strength, I let go of his arm. He shot a half smile and trailed his middle finger down my wrist, ending with a tight grip to my hand.

And we held hands the rest of the way back.


	14. Midnight City

Okay, so there a few things you may or may not know about me when it comes to group decisions:

1. I never get a say in choosing of options and,

2. The most voted option is NEVER what I vote for.

I don't understand this sorcery.

This time, it's either we go 100 miles out of our way to the CDC or we continue our path to Fort Bennett. Both options are a terrible dilemma.

And after last night's death of Amy, and the kidnapping of T-Dog, we wanted to get a move on. But the only thing is Jim got bit, too.

The whole group was stressed out of their mind, and while Shane was trying to make the practical choice and Rick was trying to make the moral choice, he's dying.

Speaking of Rick, we did in fact leave him behind, and he made his way back to camp even before we did, without any sign of Walkers. Lucky bastard.

"I say Fort Bennett," Daryl, the love of my life, said seriously, "we're already headin' toward it anyway."

"Yeah," I agreed, putting my hair in a tight bun before glancing at the staring faces. Sometimes, I felt like the leader with the way Andrea and Carol stared at me. "It doesn't make sense wasting the gas."

"We'd be going past cars," Shane added stiffly. He looked at me reassuringly, making my stomach clench unwillingly. _What happened last night was nothing, _I told myself repeatedly, _we all thought we were going to die._

"I'm pretty sure Daryl's system can only handle so much gas, with that blue hose and all," I said, letting my hands fall loosely after I finished with my hair. I touched it again self consciously; my hair hadn't been up that much, ever. I was always an anti-hair tie kind of girl.

"She's right," he said, standing up from the lawn chair and smiling when I nodded, "that stuff do not fair well with my stomach. If we gonna do this I'm gonna need a clear hose."

Rick looked at the group pleadingly as Shane kept collectively calm. Again, I was agreeing with Shane. And it sincerely had nothing to do with the fact that he can put butterflies with ADHD in my stomach.

"Going to the CDC is blind luck," he added, shaking his head and holding on to the strap of his crossbow.

That and the fact I'd be stuck with an angry Daryl, in the truck, for 100 miles. As much as I love him, I don't think I had the willpower.

"Okay, let's take a vote," Shane said, raising a few select eyebrows, including mine. Shane was always an 'I say it goes' person. "Whoever says going to the CDC raise their hands."

Shane silently counted and sighed heavily. "That's the majority."

I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms as a smile the size of Manhattan spread across Rick's face. I suppressed a dozen cuss words, and by the looks on their faces, so did Shane and Daryl.

"Wait, what-" I yelled, silenced by Shane's hand that rose to his mouth. He shook his head.

I huffed angrily and walked to Daryl's side. We shared the anger as Shane talked to Rick. Shane's jaw was twitching, a signal to me that Rick was saying something he didn't like.

"He's not going to change his mind," Daryl muttered.

"Maybe Lori can change it," I suggested.

"Lori voted for the CDC too."

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose, walking to the truck. We saw this coming and packed ahead of time, we just didn't know the route would be changed.

"Where are you going?" Daryl asked, walking with me.

"If we're going to this fricken CDC we best be going now!" I yelled, reminding me of a low tempered Daryl. I even chose my words carefully to sound more like him.

Daryl smirked and gave me a lovingly pat on the back, and before he released, his arm went lower, skimming my butt with the tip of his fingers. I blushed unknowingly, getting sly glances from him. He knew what he did; it was no accident.

"Thanks for trying to make me feel better," I laughed, "it's not going to do much good where were going."

Daryl laughed along with me and nodded. "Well, I think we're actually goin' right this minute. That's one good thing about this trip."

I looked around at the busy bee camp, watching Morales talk to Rick, Lori and Carl packing up their stuff, and the rest of the group already getting in their cars. Shane and his jeep caught my eyes and I found myself batting my eyelashes slightly when he looked over this way, giving me a sexy smirk in return before climbing into his jeep. I had a sudden urge to ride with him instead of Daryl.

"Hey," Daryl said, patting my chest to get my attention. I turned around and followed where Daryl was pointing, towards where Morales and his family where standing.

"I think we're gonna leave," Morales said confidently, although there was a little unsure mixed in.

"We have family in Georgia. We're going to try to find them," Morales' wife, Miranda added. Their two kids, Eliza and Louis, stood in front of them. Like usual, not saying a word and not displaying any emotion on their faces. Poor kids. At least they were fortunate to have their parents still.

"If you think this is the right decision to make," Rick said, nodding his head once as Morales nodded his.

Carol and Lori gathered around Miranda and thanked and hugged her, and even though I didn't know Miranda or her two kids very well, I still gave them my condolences. Morales and I weren't exactly best friends either, but I hugged him anyway and wished him on his way. At last minute, Eliza gave her doll to Sophia.

We all watched the family get into their car and drive away. Rick waited until they were a few meters away before waving his hand, signaling the rest of us to start heading out.

I sighed and reluctantly followed Daryl to his truck, nostalgically looking in the back before climbing into the passenger seat. Merle's motorcycle laid in the bed of the truck, still covered with the dirt stained canvas cloth like he went missing yesterday. Nothing like swallowing sadness for breakfast in the morning. Especially when you never eat breakfast.

"Hey," Daryl softly spoke, lacing his fingers through mine and pulling it to the console. He kissed my fingers and set them back down. "It's gonna be okay."

I smiled gently and squeezed his hand, gazing out my window once we started moving. The Winnebago was routinely first, following Carol's car, then Daryl and me, and surprisingly last, Shane. We were forced to leave T-Dog's vehicle behind.

It was a melancholy break up; Morales went south on the road out and the rest of us went north. It felt weird to leave them, but it was their choice. We all saw it coming anyway, someone would leave before making a big decision, and I definitely didn't blame them for leaving.

I kinda hoped it would've been Daryl and I who'd left first.

As soon as we pulled up to the humongous glass plated building, the sun was just about setting. If the CDC was a dead end, so were our lives; there's no way we would survive through the night this close to the city.

"What d'ya think?" I asked Shane when he caught up to me as we were making our way to the entrance of the CDC. Routinely, we looked around for Walkers, or in this case, people that were actually alive.

He smirked in way of a reply and shook his head in disbelief. "Second dumbest decision this group has ever made."

"What was the first?" I asked curiously.

"Birthday-Day."

I smirked at first, and then uncontrollably bellowed out laughing. Daryl, who walked ahead of us, looked back suspiciously.

"Sorry," I apologized and waited for the giggles to cease before I spoke again. "You're not the one who calls shots anymore, ya know."

Shane glanced at me angrily as if I was degrading him. I shrugged my shoulders innocently.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked seriously. I rolled my eyes.

"You've heard this before," I lectured, scoffing as he still looked at me, offended.

We stepped around the left behind military barricades that had protected the CDC, it becoming obvious that they failed their mission on account of the dead, scattered bodies that dotted the field and the post they set up. It was almost a reminder that Walkers were more powerful than us. Even the most powerful forces in the world couldn't keep these monsters at bay.

"Explain," he grunted, and even though I was sure he had heard all this before, I sighed and cracked my neck.

"Rick is in charge because he's the one with the family to take care of. Would you like me to formulate any other excuses?"

"Never mind," he scowled, gritting his teeth and walking in front of me and eventually passing Daryl.

"I'd rather me say it calmly than Rick shoving it in your face one day!" I yelled to him, Daryl slowing down to my pace and walking with me.

We finally reached the big, metal doors that kind of looked like garage doors but were no doubt used for protection instead of harboring cars. Rick banged on the door and yelled, but no one answered.

"Keep your voice down," Shane snapped at Rick, glancing at the setting sun every few seconds, growing more weary as Rick still noisily pounded on the metal.

"No one's here," I sighed, not too surprised that this place was abandoned. I didn't have hope in it in the first place.

The people who did actually have hope in the CDC for whatever questions they were hoping to be answered sighed nervously, Lori actually walking up to Rick and tugging at his shirt.

"We can't be this close to the city. Not after dark," she urgently said, simply relaying what all of us were thinking.

"Someone's here," Rick whispered, making it seem like he was talking to himself. It was a real possibility at this point. "The camera."

"Okay," Shane said, attempting to haul Rick away. Rick was kicking and screaming as if he were a child.

"You're killing us!" Rick yelled, finally accepting his fate, letting Shane let go of him as we al headed, disappointedly, back to our vehicles. At the very last minute, the big door opened, shining out a blinding and hope filled light out into the open.

Maybe Shane really _was_ wrong this time.


	15. New Perspective

I watched Daryl bash against the impenetrable metal door with an axe in horror. We weren't getting out of this alive.

It had only been less than a day since we were begging to get in, and now we were begging to get out.

Apparently, this whole place was rigged to blow and Jenner didn't have the decency to tell us we were walking into it.

"Daryl, stop," I pleaded, "it's useless."

"No it's not," Daryl said without looking back to face me. I waited to see if he'd realize the weight of my words; he kept hacking away. I whimpered and turned toward the ongoing pleads and threats to Dr. Jenner, who said we couldn't get past the metal doors after they fell. I was starting to believe him.

Something sparked in the room, something I didn't catch. Everyone turned toward Jenner, and Shane was already awaiting an attack toward him. It came expectedly.

"You motherfucker!" Daryl yelled and slung the axe over his shoulder. He angrily made his way over to Jenner, who was getting pushed back by Rick.

"No, no, no," I whispered, jogging in front of Daryl before he got to the main computer's platform. "As he readied his axe to be unmercifully swung down at Jenner's head, I jerked in front of him, putting myself in the line of fire. Shane attempted to pull me back, but I steadied myself and grabbed Daryl's waist.

"Daryl," I said calmly, feeling, once again, like his spiritual advisor, "look at me." The muscles in his face relaxed and his eyes shifted to mine, but his hands remained in striking position. "He's the only one who can get us outta here."

His hands relaxed as he let Rick take the axe. I hugged him tightly, sighing almost contently when he romantically grasped my waist in one hand and my neck in the other. I swore I could hear a whimper escaping his lips, choked back by three words that I've been waiting to hear since day one.

I love you.

These were not just words evoked from the near death situation we all found ourselves in. These were words bottled up from endless hours we were more or less forced to spend together. These were words that pulled us together and saved our lives before we joined the group. These were words that were never said but felt throughout the shitty lives we were handed after the new age. I thought I never would've heard them, especially coming from the unmoral, anarchist being titled Daryl Dixon.

I pulled away from the strong grasp that held us together, coming inches from his face. I almost expected Merle to pop out of nowhere and kill the moment. Instead, everyone ignored us except Andrea, who watched in melancholy glee.

"I love you too," I choked out, laughing at the romantic cheesiness of it all, "Do-do you think we're gonna ma-ake it out?

"I've never said or thought this to anyone in my life," he started, removing a piece of hair that lay across my eye, "but it doesn't matter as long as it's with you."

I whimpered and shuttered, practically slamming my face into his shoulder. There was another thing that shocked me to death because it ever crossed Daryl's mind, let alone him saying it out loud. It was probably one I'd never hear again.

The situation was so bittersweet it made me want to hurl. It was like that one baking chocolate that tempted you when you were younger. It smelled so good until smell wasn't enough. Then you tried to eat some; it definitely didn't taste as good as it smelt. Nothing ever does. Especially after the apocalypse.

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!" Carol screamed in blind hysteria. I blinked several times before I realized the past three minutes went by in a blur. Everyone now was pacing in swift anxiety or rocking themselves in a corner.

"I think you're lying," Rick confronted Jenner, making us all turn and await his reply. I forcibly removed myself from Daryl's shoulder to join the group around the doctor's computer. He grabbed my hand tightly as we awaited Rick's pleads. The countdown had hit the ten minute mark.

Surprisingly enough, I hadn't the need to panic. Daryl's hand in mine comforted my nerves enough to not care if a blinding explosion caused by Rick's instincts was how it all ended. If only Merle was here, if he was even alive. We all doubted it by now.

Finally, at the four minute mark, Doctor Jenner let out a sigh. The pacing stopped. The rocking came to a halt. Everyone stood and watched as he walked toward another card reader and set his ID on the blue light that illuminated the crescent shaped cove. He punched in some numbers as we all watched the metal door lift, also lifting the fear that all weighed us down in varying degrees. Daryl was the first to speak.

"Come on," he said, pulling me along as he ran towards the exit.

"Wait," I whispered, halting him to a stop when I saw Jacqui and Andrea not following, "I'll catch up."

He huffed doubtfully but let go of my hand, giving me a peck on the lips before joining the others. He wouldn't have gone so quickly and self willingly if he doubted my return. I kept that in mind as I approached Andrea.

"Go," Andrea yelled, her voice shaking tremendously. The clock was ticking down, coming down to almost three minutes before Dale came in and excused me from Andrea's presence. I could tell Jacqui was already convinced that she wanted to stay. Andrea, on the other hand, was making rash decisions based on guilt about Amy. I trusted Dale had it under control and I headed toward the CDC's entrance.

"Move, move, move," I heard Rick yell as I got to the stairs leading to the main lobby and our exit way. Daryl practically tackled me to the floor as a grenade blew and shattered the front window.

"Jesus, Daryl," I sneered, rubbing the shoulder that I hit while Daryl's body slammed into mine.

"Sorry," he apologized, holding out his hand. I smiled and took it gleefully. He pulled me up and grabbed hold of my waist and didn't let go until everyone was out of the window. Dale and Andrea were heading through the hallway toward us as he kissed me on the cheek.

"Let's go kick some ass, huh?"

I smiled and ran toward the window, leaving Daryl behind. He caught up quickly.

Most of the Walkers heading toward the building were killed by everyone else. The only thing we could do was to get to Daryl's truck before we got blown up.

"Yeah!" Daryl called out as he chopped a Walker's head off the same time I laid a round on a Walker near the truck. I shrugged like it was something I did everyday. Wait, it was what I did everyday. Never mind.

We climbed into the trucks bench seat and immediately ducked our heads, shortly following an immense explosion that shook the truck. It was over in a few seconds, leaving a fiery heat coming from the flame swallowed building that used to be the CDC. We were close enough that my face got warm just by facing the blaze.

"Whew," Daryl whispered, looking at me and raising his eyebrows, "adrenaline pumping."

"You're an adrenaline junky," I laughed and patted his shoulder. He tsked at me and started the truck.

"So are you, hypocrite."

"Redneck."

"Mental case."

"Hi, I'm Daryl Dixon," I mocked.

"Don't do that."

"I'm from Atlanta, Georgia. Lemme tell you the story about my itchy ass."

"Shut up!" he laughed and pushed my shoulder before pulling out into the street with the others.

"What, you're not gonna drive on the other side of the street, badass?"

"I hate you, ya know that?"

"Yeah, I have mutual feelings about you too."

"Oh, whatever," Daryl snickered, glancing over at me every few seconds. I continued to stare.

"How did we ever become compatible?" I laughed and stopped staring, looking out my window at the flames that heated my face as well as my heart. Or, that might have been Daryl's doing.

"I think that's the point... We're not."

"Hey you guys," I said, making my way across the campgrounds to the cheery campfire that everyone gathered around at the end of the day. It definitely was my favorite time of the day.

"Are you drunk?" Andrea asked, laughing as I stumbled toward an empty seat that awaited me next to Daryl.

"Maybe a little bit," I burped and took the bottle of jack from Daryl's hands.

"Well, pass it around then," Dale commented and laid back in his lawn chair. We all laughed in harmony as I took a swig and passed it to Lori, careful not to place it into Carl's grabbing hands.

"Nuh, uh little man," she said, sipping a tiny drop and passing it to Rick.

"Oh come on," Shane ragged, getting unexpected glares from Lori, "what harm can it do?"

"Less harm than you could ever do," Lori harshly spat, making the group fall silent. I looked at Daryl for an answer; he just shrugged his shoulders and whispered something about what happened between them at the CDC.

"Buzzkill," Glenn muttered, getting up and walking towards the Winnebago.

"Wait... Shhhh," Carl said as the chatter started picking up again, putting his finger to his lips. We all fell routinely silent, listening for a rustle in the tree branches or a crunch of leaves on the ground. Suddenly, a slither like sound was heard from an empty log that was stationed next to Daryl. It was a green snake that stood out from the decaying brown wood. We all stayed quiet as much as we stayed still.

"It's poisonous, Daryl," Dale whispered, "don't move."

The snake hissed and came closer, to the edge of the log. All it had to do now was to slither not even a foot to reach Daryl's arm. His hand clenched mine.

"How do you know for sure," Daryl anxiously said between clenched teeth, blinking rapidly when the snake hissed again.

"It's an Emerald Tree Snake," I amended, whispering in his ear, "you can tell it's poisonous by the neon color."

"Well what the hell do I do?"

Before I could pull my gun out, the snake jumped towards Daryl. Time slowed. The facts about this snake I've learned in the past flooded back. Symptoms after ten minutes of the initial bite already would show signs of death. I panicked. My arm reached out to catch the snake before I knew what I was doing. Time seemed to speed back up as my fingers reached the scaly animal. It bit me immediately as I grasped its small body.

"Ow, shit!" I yelled, dropping the snake as Daryl stood and stomped unmercifully on the head of it. I felt dizzy, but the only problem was that I didn't know if it was the adrenaline or the poison. I've been immune to things before, usually things that other people weren't immune to commonly. Snake venom might've been one.

Daryl quickly sat back down and snatched my hand, bruising his thumb across the two red dots between my thumb and first finger. It burned slightly, nothing I couldn't handle. I furrowed my eyebrows as he licked the puncture holes.

"What the hell are you doing," I drowsily asked, close to falling over if Daryl didn't have an arm around my waist.

"I'm gonna suck the poison out," he said and started doing what he said. I found the situation awkward; everyone was standing around us as Daryl sucked on my hand. He started spitting out the liquid that filled his mouth until crimson blood started flowing out of the wound instead of yellowish clear liquid.

"I do believe you just saved my life, Mr. Dixon," I said, repeating exactly what I said when he saved me for the first time. I attempted to stand but fell into Daryl's arms instead.

"Yeah, ditto. I know nobody woulda sucked the poison outta my bloodstream. Plus, you mean it this time."

"Whatever," I laughed, looking up at Daryl's scruffy face, "I would have."

"Well," he grunted, picking me up and walking me to his truck, "you don't know how."

"That's true," I yawned and closed my eyes as he gently opened the passenger door and laid me on the bench seat.

"You can sleep it off. I'll see ya in the morning, love."

"Are you sure it's safe to sleep in my condition?"

He laughed. "You don't have a concussion."

Before he shut the door, I caught it with my foot.

"Daryl?"

"Yea, darling?"

I smiled as he said darling.

"I love you."

He climbed over the bench seat, lying almost on top of me. My breath halted to a stop.

"I love you, too."

He kissed my forehead, then the tip of my nose, then my lips. We stayed there for a few moments, enjoying the ambiance like chatter that commenced at the campfire.

Eventually, I fell into a deep, dreamless, happy slumber.


End file.
